Bloody Samara (A Ringu story)

± ± ±

I: The Voices.

± ± ±

The @#%$ television is moaning at me again.

It’s not actually, you know, moaning at me; it’s just having those damned static screaming and shrieking noises, all over again.

Well then, Mister Television – or Miss – no-one pisses off Samara Morgan without regretting it, so you better shut the @#%$ up or else–

“Or else what?”

Huh? What the hell?

“You heard me, bitch – or else what?”

Holy @#%$! My television is talking to me!

“Hell yeah I am. So, or else what, Samara Morgan?”

@#%$! It knows my name! It’s Super Television!

“No need for the @#%$ sarcasm, Samara.”

Who said I was being sarcastic? Not every television knows my name, let alone talks.

“You will kill them, Samara, you’ll make them pay.”

What? Kill who? Make who pay?

“Them, Samara. Your parents, the world, everyone.”

Wait – what was that?

“You’ll kill them all and you’ll enjoy it!”

Um, no. I don’t want to get arrested, thank you.

“You won’t get arrested. Nobody will know.”

Uh, yeah. They will know if you kill a person in front of their damned faces.

“Do it discreetly...”

How the hell can you kill people discreetly? You have to be a really good damn mass murderer or psychopath.

“So, you’re interested?”

No, not really. I would prefer to grow up as a normal damned child instead of the world’s youngest psychopathical murderer.

“But you’re already known as a psycho...”

So @#%$ what? Do you think I want people to double that thought? Nooo, I don’t.

“They can’t judge you if they’re dead...”

That’s a good point; but I still wouldn’t kill for the sake of it.

“You’re killing for revenge, not for no reason...”

Hah! Who said I was killing? Samara: 1. Television: 0!

“You will kill them...”

Says who?

“You will... You will...”

What if I decide not to?

“You will... Kill them...”

The fuzzing stops. The television isn’t talking to me anymore. Wait, was it talking to me in the first place? Or was it just my imagination?

Great. Just what I need; to be known as the girl who talks to her damned television. Her broken television that makes screaming noises and commands her to kill people.

God, I must be losing it.

The television has been telling me to kill people for days now since that incident. Why the hell can’t it just leave me alone?

I look to my arm, my pale long childish arm. Not many children my age have skin this pale. Jeez, I must be the only one. I look like a @#%$ ghost. No wonder I’m rumoured a freak in this Hellhole.

My eyes and hair look odd too; my eyes are a watery light blue while my hair is ebony black and reaches near my feet.

When was the last time I had a damned haircut?

Anyway, that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is the fact that I’m @#%$ scared of my own television. A broken television.

Hah. Most children fear clowns and spiders; I fear a broken television. My broken television, to be exact.

So, I’m sitting in my wooden chair again, drawing some random things. Like an x-ray of a dead horse. How I wish it were real and that the picture was of those damned beasts who bother my sleep.

“You want them dead, don’t you...?”

Who? The horses? Of course, who wouldn’t? Lousy creatures.

“Wouldn’t you make your father sad...?”

Who cares about him? He can jump off a cliff for all I care.

“Why don’t you push him instead?”

Ohh. Sounds tempting, but no.

“Don’t you hate him?”

Of course I hate him, but as I said before, I’m not a psychopath.

“It could be your revenge...”

Who cares about revenge? All that happens is that you get caught killing someone and go to jail. Or, if you succeed to kill someone without someone knowing, they’ll find the body and you’ll end up like them in the end, rotting to death like a corpse.

“No-one will ever know...”

Or will they? You never know until it’s been done.

“You could become legendary and no-one would be able to stop you...”

How do you know that? Are you a psychic or something?

“They’ll never know...”

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be the only one who hears the television talking if there was anyone else apart from me to listen. All though, the horses might hear it, but I doubt they can understand human.

I can hear my mother screaming. I would feel sorry for her if only I had the emotions to do so. Right now, I could care less about anything – all I can think about is wondering why the television is talking to me and me alone.

Perhaps I’m special?

God knows. But now I know the television has finally stopped messing with my head, so now I can continue doing what I’m doing before it interrupted me.

I look to my piece of paper, the drawing of the dead horse looking at me as though I had done something wrong.

Pft. Doing something wrong would involve actually killing the real stupid beast itself, not drawing a fake one’s death.

No matter how fun it would be to kill the beasts anyway.

Wait a minute... Did I just say that?

Oh dear Lord, I am losing it.

What’s going on? I can hear people screaming, but I can’t see them. I can hear them shrieking for mercy, but mercy I cannot give for I do not even know where it is coming from.

That wrecked television is still taunting me, it’s telling me to kill the horses. But I tell it no, no matter how tempting it is.

And then there’s that image that flashes through my mind...

I can hear my father telling my mother how much it is my fault for her sudden madness strike. She has no idea what it’s like. She’s not the freak. She’s just the poor mother who gave birth to one.

I twirl a lock of my ebony hair around a pale finger. It’s strange, I can hear my father also saying about him preparing to send me to an insane unit if I cause any more ‘trouble.’

Oh deary me, I am so scared! That was sarcasm if you didn’t know.

It’s been a few more days since my father threatened to send me to the insane unit. I haven’t caused any more ‘trouble’ yet.

Soddy bastard he is, he deserves every last bit of trouble.

The television hasn’t talked to me yet, thank God.

“You want them dead, don’t you...?”

Oh @#%$, spoke too soon.

“Kill them... Kill them...”

Uhhhh...

“You want them dead, don’t you, Samara?”

How am I supposed to know? This @#%$ of a television keeps talking to me, or I least I think it is. Maybe I am insane, you never know.

“You’re not the insane one, they are...”

Damn straight, they are.

“You want to prove your sanity, don’t you?”

Uh, well, nothing will persuade them that I’m a good child.

“Then kill them... Kill those who dare to annoy you...”

Isn’t that against the law?

“We discussed this matter all ready, they will never know...”

And I all ready told you before; no.

“Your father hates you...”

He can shove it for all I care.

“The horses hate you...”

Well, I didn’t need you to inform for me to know that.

“Your mother hates you...”

No she doesn’t! Mother loves me! Father is the one to blame!

“She wants you gone...”

She doesn’t! She doesn’t!

“They’re going to take you away...”

No! Mother won’t let them! She won’t! She won’t!

“You drove her crazy...”

I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t!

“They’re plotting to get rid of you...”

Father is, but mother isn’t! She wouldn’t do such a thing!

“She would... See the way she stares at you? She thinks you’re a freak...”

No! She doesn’t! Mother is a good person! A good person!

“She wants you out of her life...”

“She wants you gone...”

“She wants you... Dead...”

“She is going to push you down the well...”

“She will kill you...”

“She will... Get rid of you...”

“She hates you...”

“She’ll be the cause of your death...”

No! No! No! No! I cover my ears and shake my fiercely. No! Mother wouldn’t do such a thing! She wouldn’t! She wouldn’t!

“She will... Kill you...”

It suddenly goes static... Then silence. Bitter sweet silence.

I wish I had more of this silence, instead of hearing the damn voices.

________________________________________________________

-±§VampWolver§±-

~So forgive me once I put out my own flame...~

Edited by: VampWolver at: 3/30/05 6:08 am