Knives

The truth is, not all stories are happy ones. Some are of a darker nature. And the reason I tell such stories is because life can be dark as well as light. Some say there are two sides to every coin. I don't believe this to case. For in the moment, we are entranced on one side. We can flip the coin repeatedly, heads one day, tails the next. But for the unlucky one, the coin always lands on tails, whether or not they flip it once or thousands of times. This is the story of one unlucky one.

She grew up poor. There was a garbage dump and a row of run down, delapidated houses. None of which were enjoyable to the eye. There was the bus station where the neighborhood kids would play from time to time. They would play hide-and-seek and tag and "don't touch the lava". All those games. Chelsea was a young, red-haired girl about nine years old. Too young to know of love and sex. Only old enough to know of eyes and ears.

Rusty knocked on her little red-brick house one night, asking her aging mother if she could come out and play. She said "yes" of course. Chelsea's mother loved her dearly, she couldn't help it. Her father had died of Leukemia recently, and they lived together in that house and enjoyed their life. They also had a neighbor Dan, who was beginning to show an interest in Chelsea's mother, and would show his presence in their home from time to time. He was even showing an interest in young Chelsea. Not the healthy kind.

"So Chelsea, what do you want to play?"

"Oh, I don't know. Hide and seek."

"You always want to play that. Fine."

Chelsea ran through the buses and hid while Rusty covered his eyes and counted "mississippi seconds". The sun was coming down and casting long shadows of the buses, the sky turning that beautiful pink and orange.

"Here I come!" shouted Rusty.

He started to run through the buses, trying to find her. Rusty was a good kid, only about eleven, doing well in school. Dan was his uncle, standing there watching the children play, smoking a cigarette and drinking beer. The children ran and laughed and giggled, Rusty couldn't tag her.

"Slow down Chelsea!" said Rusty.

"Okay." she said and caught her breath. "I wish we had a ball."

"Uncle Dan has one!"

"Oooooo!" Chelsea stood up and did a cat stretch, reaching for the sky. Dan watched.

She walked briskly over to Dan, his dirty jeans, scruffy face, and creepy glare.

"Hi Dan!" she said.

"Well, hey there Chelsea. How have you been little girl?"

"Goooood." she said shyly, staring at the ground. "Do you have a ball?"

"I do, actually. You're mom said you needed a father figure, do you know what that is?"

"Nooo, my daddy died awhile ago."

"I know that sweety. Why don't you come inside and I'll get you your ball."

Chelsea innocently followed Dan inside. Dan's intentions we're far from pure, but the reality of the future was even worse. Dan collected knives.

"Do you like my mommmy?"

"Yes, I do Chelsea. But I like you to."

"Oh," was all she could say.

"Now if you come downstairs, I'll get you your ball. But you'll have to do something for me?"

"What?"

"I'll show you." He said watching her.

Chelsea ran downstairs and saw plenty of strange things. Odd trinkets, machines, and a large pile of knives. Dan collected knives. It was a strange fascination for him. Some of us truly descend into evil. Rusty sat outside and waited patiently.

"Now Chelsea, I want you to take off your clothes for me, okay?" said Dan.

"I was told by mom that,"

"Look, I don't give a fuck what your mom says, okay. Do as I say, I'm your father now."

"No! My Daddy's dead! Mom said so!" She started to run. But she tripped and fell. She fell right into the pile of knives. Her screams were agony. Dan just stared as she bled to death.

The cops came and questioned everyone. Rusty said she went inside to get a ball. Dan said she tripped and fell. But Chelsea was dead. No one was arrested. There was a funeral. And Dan, being the hero, comforted poor Chelsea's mother and eventually they married.