Red is everywhere in every shade. Eyes blurred by red. I went too far on this one, Steve thought to himself. Sadistic blades trusting the limp frames persistently. “Steve,” Taylor shrieked “What is that?” “You did this to me!” Steve shouted to her and him, “Why–How could you?” A sadistic blade flailing towards the mound of him. “You!” exclaimed Steve, “You–Your fault (Impale)! None of this (Impale) would have happened (Impale)! You (Impale) did this (Impale) to your (Impale) self (Thrust-jab-jab-thrust)!” Panting and grabbing a jug from his basement. The mound absorbing every last drop. Steve left him there and started digging in his basement. A ladder helped Steve get out. Chucking all the pieces except for his down the stairs and into the hole. After the last chunks go down the basement Steve chucked the jug down the stairs.He then changed his direction towards him. “You ruined my life and, I hope you enjoy rotting in hell.”

Steve took off out of his house and headed through the woods. Red and blue parading down the streets. That did not take long. The red and blue did not stop even as Steve reaches his house. Intruding gunman, heavily armored cars, and stretched cars everywhere as grimy frames are brought out by the dozens. Steve just keeps strolling past his house until he stumbles upon a cabin.

Great now I can change and creep on my house. Dashing towards the inscrutable house he finds no entrance. Scurrying around until SPLAT! Steve blinded with red yet again found what he wanted. Like a worm he wiggles, squirms, and twists his way towards the end. CRACK! More red erupting and blinding him he opened the hatch. Gushing and spewing red all over the basin crystal clear spewing and spitting out on to Steve. All he needed was a drop but he wanted nothing to do with it. He had tried this before but he always would wake up. After cleaning himself up he began scavenging around. He started in the kitchen where he hurled after eating. The basin is a pungent rainbow with the pot of gold being the basin itself. Rusty spotted silver basin. About the only thing decent looking in this house. Dipping floors from being over-sanded. Slight indentations of the squeaky floorboards. The Rundown Shack. The maze of a staircase. Nails, screws, and splintered wood line t he maze. Underneath the maze glittering diamonds and dust covering every step.

Reaching the top a pungent odor punched his throat, tearing his eyes. A decayed and rotten frame. Nothing left just like a carcass picked cleaned by scavengers. Scattered, missing, and demolished bones by whatever had a full-course meal. Back down the maze and bark blocking a cold breeze from escaping. No lights. Nothing. Cold ground at his feet and he started. When he could lay back in it he marched up the stairs. A dark colored marker and a cabinet door was all he needed. After he was finished he carefully carried the remains down to its final resting place. Covering and placing the finishing touch he left and hoped never to return back there again. The rest of the cabinet doors were like the first one. Barely hanging on by a rusting and curving screw.

Upstairs in a bedroom he found everything he needed. A birth certificate that read Alfred James Davis Senior. Back down the maze he grabbed the marker and headed down. Already he was back down here and he grabbed the threshold. Upstairs he added the final touches and he started to go blind. Scurrying back downstairs he placed the threshold back into place and dashed up the stairs. Rummaging through the box where he found Alfred’s certificate he found a few other things. One was a journal and the other a picture. He blindly made his way downstairs and to the kitchen table and set the picture and journal next to his jacket. While washing his clothes he watched Taylor return to his house. I want to but I can’t risk it. If she found out that she was talking to me. He decided to let it go and hung his clothes up to dry. Back upstairs he found a lot more clothes and a necklace. Blinded again Steve slept. The pain had become overwhelming. He thought sleep would c omfort him, instead it tortured him. Even wide awake it haunted him. He saw everything like it was happening now. Flashbacks where occuring making it worse. His demons revealing everything nothing was left to the imagination.

Outside he was granted with relieve ‘til he looked at his house. Pitch black so no one should be there. At the door he marched to his room. Up the stairs to the attic door. A crowbar marked the spot. He demolished the floorboards to reveal his parents. “Why! You!” Pointing at his father, “You started this mess!” Yanking the frame up by the shirt collar, “You didn’t have to do this to me! To US! You didn’t have to rip this family apart!” Slamming his father back down into place he grabbed his mother. “You didn’t help either! You could of–should of listened to HIM!” Pointing at his dad. “You knew he that he got jealous easily whether it was a joke or not! He even pleaded with you to stop but NO you had to continue with your shenanigans!” Steve looked like he just got down playing in the rain. Blinded again he made his way out. THUD! Down the stairs without taking a step and out cold. Nausea took complete control. He was the pup pet and nausea the master.

No one had seen him dash into the woods to the Shack. He compared Alfred’s necklace to the one his mother had given him. They were an exact match. Skimming through the pages he found that Alfred wrote a lot about Steve’s family. He ran to his house and scurried up to his room only to meet the police and Taylor. He glanced around ‘til he saw his certificate. He waited there until after the police and Taylor left. No one saw him. Snaking his way into his room he quietly rummaged through the plastic to grab the ticket. He carefully walked outside only to meet Taylor. “Why are you here?” “I knew Steve… he was my cousin.” Steve walked away without waiting for her to reply. He had to make a few laps around the block to ensure Taylor hadn’t followed. When he arrived at The Shack Taylor awaited his arrival. How did she find me? How does she know? Does she know I’m him? Will she turn me in?

“What are you doing here?” Say question every time. Why does she care so much?

“I waste my time here so I can be close to the his house.” He nodded towards his house.

“Steve never mentioned a cousin that lived in this cabin. We were here all time and not a noise was ever made that we didn’t make. The only person known to live here was a creepy old guy that moved away.”

“Hey! That ‘creepy old guy’ was my grandfather and he never–He left this house to me. I can have you arrested for trespassing, so scram, move, GET OUT OF HERE!” She was speechless then started to fume like a volcano erupting. Throwing a temper tantrum like a two-year old. “Pick up your feet. These floors are bad enough.” She whipped around quicker than a cobra and said nothing. She was a giant oompa loompa turning redder than a fire-hydrant. Smoke was pouring out of her ears like her brain was being roasted on a stick over a campfire. Steve was losing it. He didn’t even have to lie to he. All she ever does is ask “Why are you here?” Mind your own business or you’ll be next toots. Steve was planning to tell Taylor that he was Steve not Alfred. Or should I tell her my REAL name? What will she do if I tell her? Can I trust her?

Steve went to his house again to find more stuff about his parents and Alfred. He decided to look in his parent’s room. He found a closet that seemed that caveman made it and was locked. Glancing around he decided that the coast was clear and YANK! THUD! He was in that closet quicker than his shadow. The ancient knob on the string met his face first then a massive hairy spider was inches from his face. The hourglass showing that his time was running out. Great. Where there is one, there is more. Crushing and squeezing all the juice out of the spider his fist put a spider sized hole in the wall. It took a leap to get out of their and CRASH! He jumped right out the window and into a his neighbors mud hole. Idiots don’t even know. He awoke not in a hospital bed but in a house. He felt rain. The weather changed real quick.

“Can you hear me?” An inscrutable voice sounded. A light past his eyes quickly shutting them. Then he seen her face. Scrambling up and weaving like a drunk Steve managed it out of her house and down the road. He knew exactly where he was going, but she had no clue. She thinks I don’t know my way around here. Stupid girl.

“Wait!” She hollered, “I’m just trying to help. I don’t want you to get lost.”Like she’s worried about me. Probably wants some info out me. But ya hear me I’m not tellin’ you a thing. You mind your own business you nosey–BEEEEP! THUD!

“O my gosh,” a stranger was looking over him, “are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?” Yeah I’m alright. You just ran me over at about fifty miles-an-hour now I’ll just get up and walk it up. Of course I need an ambulance! Great now I’ll have to get x-rays and find out what’s broken that I don’t know.

“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” the stranger continued, “you wait right here.” No I’ll just get up and walk to the hospital myself. Better yet I’ll race you to the hospital. The ambulance and police showed up about ten minutes later. With the cuffs grinding Steve asked for a bottle of water. He drank all of it but, his slight wounds only healed. Darn. Still got to go to the hospital. At the hospital they didn’t bother to search him. Ha idiots. They asked Steve for his name and insurance. “Alfred James Davis Senior and I don’t have insurance. I usually stay away from idiots.” They x-rayed him to only find that his left leg was broken. Slapping a cast on and giving him crutches he wobbled out the door. He found the hospital fountain and jumped right in. No had seen him and no one could see him. He felt the pain of his femur being slightly pushed back into place. He decided to nap and when he awoke he found his leg in perfect condition.

“Hands up!” A lone officer hollered with a twelve-gauge pump shotgun pointed at Steve. “Mr. Alfred James Davis Junior, you are under arrest for the murder of Paul Fredrickson, Timmy Henderson, Carol Davis, Derrick Davis, and–” POP! POP! One down and God knows how many more.

“Freeze!” BANG! He saw the gun too late.

“I need back up at the Napoleon Hospital and target has a gun, maybe more, and is Alfred James Davis Junior.” Where is that son of a gun? The lonesome cop peeked around the corner and BLAM! He dropped like a sack of potatoes. A blinding spotlight rolled up on him.

“Drop your weapons Mr. Davis. We will shoot you down.” Not if I get you first. And with that Alfred sniped the helicopter driver and the gunman on the right side.

POP! “Oww. Son of a gun got me.” BOOM! But I got him back. POP! POP! BLAM! BANG! Alfred dropped and spun around to see what happened. Taylor had shot him and he seen the bullet that was going to kill him. At least I’ll get to see them all again. BANG!