Slash (Novella I)

Authors: Kevin Anthony

Slash - Novella I

By Kevin Anthony

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Table of Content

Chapter 1 - Trouble

Ford Fischer had been introduced to the world of madness at the tender age of eight. Within us all, dwells madness, along with love, hate, envy and many other feelings. The madness is strong in some, weak in others. Though he was young, Ford understood that love was a hug from a parent, hate a shove from a bully at school, but never understood madness until he had been introduced to Rubble.

Ford’s aunt Bridget was visiting his parents in Las Vales, the city of sin, spin and win, the city they called home. His parents were in show business, which meant Ford had the pleasure to call many expensive hotel suites home. Bridgett arrived at the hotel where the couple currently had resided. Her body was sore from the plane ride, but traveled a lot as a model so she knew a couple of pain pills would solve her problem.

Bridgett knocked at the penthouse door and was greeted by Harry. “I made it.”

“
You look gorgeous,” Harry exclaimed. “You look even better in-person lil miss model.”

Bridge cheeks grew rosy. “Harry, save the compliments for my sister.”

“
She’s been stressing about your visit; don’t tell her I mentioned that though.”

Valarie appeared from the bedroom of the white and gold themed penthouse. “How was the ride?”

Bridgett set her luggage down and hugged her sister. “It was exhausting and uncomfortable.”

“
You should nap now,” Harry suggested. “You’re invited to our show. Tonight, I‘m Monroe with a tan.”

“
It’s our best yet. I’m JFK,” Valarie added. “I swear our acts get better and better each year.”

It was common in their music based shows the couple played the opposite sex.

Bridgett laughed. “I bet you two are going to perform until you’re one hundred.”

The couple laughed.

Ford rushed from his bedroom. “Auntie,” He squealed out.

Bridget got down on one knee, eye level with her nephew. “I have a gift for you.”

“
A paintball gun,” He shouted.

“
Something less violent,” She laughed.

“
Show me!”

She removed a stuffed, brown, teddy bear from her luggage. “He’s a special bear. His name is Rubble.”

Ford held Rubble as he stared at him. “How?”

“
He once belonged to the most beautiful woman in the world. I do some modeling for her agency.”

He hugged the bear close. “I’ll take care of him.”

Ford returned to his room and sat the bear on the bed. “You need a name?”

“
It’s Rubble,” The bear said.

Ford nearly jumped out of his skin. “You can talk?”

Rubble placed his paw over Ford’s mouth. “Shhh, it’s secret.”

The bear freed Ford’s mouth.

“
So you are special?”

Rubble nodded. “Yes, now how about we go to the library?”

Ford wrinkled his nose. “Yuck, why?”

“
I need to do some research.”

He laughed. “Why does a toy need to do research?”

“
Because I can become a real person and then we can be friends forever.”

Most of Ford’s so-called friends were off acting twice their age. He wasn’t allowed to play with them.

“
Awesome,” Ford exclaimed.

Rubble had neglected to mention that the process of becoming a real person would involve trying to take Ford’s life in order to use the young boy’s body as a vessel. Ford had been a big fan of wrestling and once the bear attempted to make a kill, he managed to fight free and overcome the teddy that wasn’t only stuffed with cotton, but madness.

At the age of sixteen Ford had found himself sitting up late watching a vintage slasher flick on television. The madness within him brewed as the teenager became extremely drawn to the blade friendly lifestyle of slashing. One of the more recognizable forms of madness was awaken inside of Ford which only made his high school years more difficult than they had needed to be.

Today, Ford found himself under a girl named Becky. In his right hand, he gripped the handle of a knife in the front pocket of the navy blue hooded sweatshirt he wore. In the furthest reaches of his mind, where the madness roamed he envisioned the blade drenched in blood, the warm, crimson liquid dripping onto his hand.

The wait for tonight’s host of the high school graduation party, Becky, continued, Ford’s heart pounding louder with each passing second. It wasn’t long until the music downstairs was shut off and Ford could hear her friend’s saying their goodbyes. Ford wasn’t an experienced slasher, but new teenagers were great targets. During their parties it was simple to walk in and blend in with the ground, especially because he still looked as if he could still attend classes with them.

Becky entered the room, her bare feet thumping against the soft, pink carpet.

Ford new the moment he plotted for would soon to becoming a reality.

She sat on her bed. “I can’t believe Ella puked on the couch. Idiot,” she muttered to herself.

Becky stood from her bed, headed over to her closet, yanked the doors open and started to undress.

“
That’s it. “ Becky slipped on an over-sized, plain t-shirt. “I’m unfriending Ella. No more second chances.”

Ford silently crawled from beneath the bed and positioned himself behind Becky. She fluffed her blonde hair and started to turn toward her bed. Ford wrapped his left arm around her waist and his right around her neck, making sure the blade in his hand was positioned before her eyes.

He rested his jaw against her shoulder. “If you scream, you die. This is just a robbery,” He lied.

“
My f-f-f-f-father keeps the money under his bed.” She tried to pull away. “Please don’t kill me.”

“
I said this is just a robbery. Do I look like a liar to you?”

“
No, I swear.” A tear streamed down Becky’s cheek. “Don’t hurt me, I’m a good person.”

Ford pressed the knife against her cheek. “And I’m a mad one.”

Becky started to struggle aggressively in his arms, punching with her restrained arms, pushing away from her attacker. He was surprised at her will to survive, so much so that he nearly let her slip away. She let out a scream that left his ears ringing, though the familiar tune made him smile.

Ford took his knife and drove it into her stomach, her screams halting and turning into grunts as the hard steel cut through layers of her soft flesh. He removed the blade from her stomach and shoved her against her closet door. Becky slid down to her knees, leaving a trail of blood against her closet door. Ford drove the knife twice into her lower back and stepped away, a broad grin splitting his face.

Becky slid down to her knees, leaving a trail of blood against her closet door. Ford drove the knife twice into her lower back and stepped away, a broad grin splitting his face. As her breaths faded, so did the thrill of the kill. Only a few seconds after the slashing the thrill he craved for months left and the guilt had already set in. He returned his weapon to his pocket and left the home of a dead girl.

He headed across the street and started towards his car, two blocks away. The autumn wind blew, ruffling the leaves of the gently swaying palm as well as Ford’s dark, low cut hair. A slasher came here tonight to feed a craving and a human left, regretting taking the life of a young girl.

He arrived at his car, a dark four-door. After a short struggle to unlock the dented door, Ford entered his car. He drove through the coastal town of Draper, Carolina, the stars out and the moon full. After what he just committed, Ford needed to attend a slashers’ anonymous meeting.

It was common knowledge that slashers were one of the many forms of madness that existed. Those slashers who socialized amongst each other in private or made them true selves known to the public, considered themselves reformed or claimed they had yet to kill. Many made a profit writing self-help books for those like them.

The meeting was being hosted in a private building in the economically struggling warehouse district of Draper. He entered the red brick building and inside waited familiar faces, a few socializing, few occupying themselves with their cell phones, and a pair at the snack table. There were no membership applications or sign in sheet; most fearing the law enforcement would try to compile a slasher database.

Ford approached the low-cut, dark haired girl at the table. “Hello Lu.”

Lu shook her head of low-cut dark hair as she faced Ford. “Dude, Luke brought his famous pizza bites.”

Ford scanned the room again. “Shit, which one is Luke again?”

Lu laughed. “He’s the young kid.” She nodded toward a corner. “That’s him.”

Ford met eyes with the young, dark haired slasher and smiled at him.

Luke nervously returned the smile and looked away.

“
I wish I had the opportunity to attend these meetings when I was his age,” Ford said.