It's an Artform

The sun had finally descended on an abnormally chilling November night. The young couple, Derek and Sarah, wandered aimlessly in search of an abandoned cabin. Derek once could navigate this forest as if it were his home, but the unforgiving passage of time along with the ailment of darkness turned this once beloved natural playground into a treacherous foreign labyrinth. The cabin they sought belonged to his recently deceased grandmother, Norma. Stricken by condemnation from his family due to her peculiar hobbies, she opted to live the latter part of her life as a recluse, residing in a once forgotten cabin within the depths of the wilderness. She refurbished the cabin along with assistance from her more supportive relatives, one of whom being Derek’s mother. What once was an ugly stain in a wonderful woodland expanse, became a decadent, albeit artificial, complement to the forest’s pre-existing beauty; how its once marvelous exuberance fared against neglect, however, was unknown.
In the old widow’s will were vague directions to the cabin, along with a key and detailed instructions on how to retrieve a collection of  “priceless” items from a safe located in the cellar. These riches, due to the mutual disdain between Norma and the rest of her family, were credited to Derek in whole. Although after hearing this, Derek’s family attempted to masquerade as “grief-stricken” and “inconsolable”, Derek saw right through the charade. He knew that deep down, the only living person in that family who had even the slightest shred of admiration for Norma was him. He even went as far as to attempt to cut ties with the others, thus prohibiting Sarah from ever meeting them, saying, “I loved my grandmother; the rest of them just wanted to mooch off of her riches. If they weren’t already, they’re as good as dead to me.”
He was adamant on getting the job done as quick as possible, for at this point the drama had almost become too much to bare. 
“Hustle up, Sarah!” shouted Derek in hot pursuit, already a few meters ahead of her. Getting lost in these woods was not an option, as even in broad daylight, if you didn’t know the layout of the massive forest, it could easily become your tomb. Winding paths that led to dead ends, geographical landmarks all too similar in appearance, toxic berries and other hazardous plants strewn about, carnivorous wildlife deep within (along with the traps set up to catch them); and these were just the hazards during the day. Even knowing this, his words of encouragement were of no use, however, as Sarah’s fear of the dark prohibited her from trudging forth at any speed faster than a crawl. She clutched her knapsack tightly to her chest; she would’ve much preferred to find solace in her boyfriend's arms, had he not already become engulfed by the all encompassing darkness. Her vision was obscured by ubiquitous blackness, but she managed to open up her bag and shuffle through a first aid kit, two water bottles, and pocket knife to retrieve her trusty flashlight. Shining it into the ominous dark, she eventually spotted and then approached Derek, who slowed to a halt as he stood adjacent to what he recognized to be a quaint, inauspicious yellow house.
The incongruous structure had been overtaken by winding vines that acted as a demented guardian to the rot ridden building. The yellow paint that once radiantly glowed a welcoming hue now had become chipped and foreboding, as it appeared that the house had died right along with Derek’s grandmother. The wooden front steps had become partially eroded and were coated with mildew and grime. The creaks of the steps were eerie screeches, a warning cry, one that caused trepidation in their motions but not enough to cause them to falter. They were in too deep now, and neither of them intended to leave without getting the job done. The couple scurried up the steps and entered the forgotten home, not allowing their inhibitions to take hold. 
The noxious stench of death pervaded throughout the house, the odor eliciting an assault on their senses with every breath. Despite the dreadful exterior, the interior of the building resembled what one would expect out of your average grandmother. Pictures of Derek and her five other grandchildren adorned most of the walls and heavily dominated the stairway leading upstairs. Ornate, braided carpets in an array of colors decorated the otherwise drab hardwood floors, giving a dead room a touch of life. 
In the living room sat a massive grand piano that appeared to have not been touched in ages. Derek stopped at the piano and admired a collection of monochrome photos from his grandmother’s youth. Tears welled in the outer corners of Derek’s eyes, but he quickly wiped them away in an attempt to maintain composure. Sarah saw this happen and ran over to console him. She had never met Norma, nor had she met the rest of his family for that matter, but she knew of Derek’s close, unbreakable bond he once shared with the elderly woman. Sarah gripped him tight, knowing he valued his sense of pride too much to pour out all of his grief in front of her. 
Feeling her touch, Derek immediately set out toward the basement door, conveniently left ajar, attempting to convey a facade of carelessness as he continued forth. After all, the goal of their expedition was to retrieve the contents of the safe, and at such a late hour, the quicker the job got done, the better. 
The widow’s basement was almost as traditional as the upstairs; used cutlery, hundreds of scented candles, and tattered dresses from a bygone era coated the floor in a sea of nostalgia. 
“So what exactly does this safe look like?” questioned Sarah. 
“I’d assume it’s about the size of, well, a safe,” Derek wittily retorted.
“Helpful, smartass...” Sarah hollered back as she rummaged through filth encrusted containers of all sizes. 
“I found it!” hollered Derek from the other side of the musty basement. Sarah dashed over to him, hoping the discovery signalled their departure, as she was beginning to become incredibly paranoid and uneasy about the situation. The grungy, metallic safe was about one square foot in size and had rust tracing the bottom. After they analyzed it, Sarah searched for, and eventually pulled out, a small, golden key from her pocket, turning the lock immediately after. With a twist, it reluctantly screeched open, containing nothing other than a beat-up, yellow notebook and another smaller box already opened, containing a single sheet of paper along with a multitude of weapons, gloves, and cleaning supplies. Derek’s expression of relief slowly dissolved into a look of utter disgust. He was both shocked and mortified, remaining motionless as he glared a hole through the safe’s contents. Cautiously, Sarah gathered all the courage she could muster and grasped the small, decay riddled notebook. She read it for herself, realizing that the notebook carried nothing other than a plethora of grisly descriptions of murders with dates and names for each. They ranged from stabbings, to beheadings, to burnings, even to forced starvation. Sarah was puzzled but stopped flipping through when she looked up from the paper and noticed her boyfriend– paralyzed save for the occasional twitch. 
She embraced him once more, trying to comfort him, but he swiftly pried her arms off of him and began muttering to himself as he paced the length of the basement. She could barely make out his almost inaudible muttering, but was able to decipher the word “murderer...”, being repeated over and over again. Waiting for Derek to calm down, she examined the smaller box and began to read aloud the words sloppily scribbled on the single sheet of paper: 
"To my dearest grandson, you have shown me a surplus of true, untapped  potential over the years. You’ve illustrated both your ferocity and athleticism in wrestling, and your intelligence in school. If you are reading this, I have already passed away and will miss you dearly.” 
It was at this moment that Derek’s ears perked up and he started meandering about in stiff movements, frantically toying with random objects in the basement as if he was searching for something. 
Sarah took a deep breath and continued, “I wanted to tell you in this letter that I have chosen you to carry on my legacy. I beg you, do not think of me as a monster, and certainly do not label yourself as such. You must understand that murder is an artform like any other, and I simply wish for you to experience the true wonders of this art as I did in my prime. No other soul on Earth may know of this, including my daughter, or your beloved Sar–”
The sound of shattering echoed through the house, stopping Sarah in her tracks, and Derek used this as an opportunity to snatch the paper away from her reading the rest in silence. When he finished, Sarah motioned “come here” with her fingers, and together they crept up the rickety staircase into the kitchen. 
On the floor lay a portrait of Derek’s grandmother, shattered to pieces. The sight of her painting lying in shambles on the floor brought about a surge of overwhelming rage and sorrow to Derek’s mind. He picked up a shard of glass and gripped it tight, causing a stream of blood to trickle down his palm. Realizing this, he then proceeded to hurl it across the room in a fit of fury. Immediately after doing so, he collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, and while looking at Sarah with beady eyes he finally spoke:
“I-I can’t help but miss her, even now that I know who she was...” Derek mumbled through gritted teeth.
“I understand,” consoled Sarah, as she crouched next to him on the tile floor. 
He was flooded with tears as he sat there, clutching the remains of the painting. Sarah ran her fingers through his hair, as if to mimic the comfort of a mother's presence. Due to the bizarre circumstances that had already presented themselves, the causation of the painting’s downfall was not questioned.
Sarah’s flashlight suddenly flickered out, leaving them sitting hopelessly on the floor. Sarah, thinking logically, desperately searched through her bag for spare batteries. After a few minutes of panic, she luckily found a pair. When she turned her flashlight, on, however, Derek was nowhere to be found. She searched through the dim light for him and called out his name repeatedly, but was able to find nothing. The only lead that she had was the faint, inexplicable sound of footsteps ambling about in the basement. Her natural, protective instincts suppressed any fleeting inhibitions that may have stifled her courage in the past, and she ventured down to the cellar, fearing for Derek’s safety. With the assistance of her flashlight, she was able to spot Derek in the corner of the basement, staring at the safe once more. The traumatic effects of Derek’s new knowledge were already beginning to take hold. 
“Can we just get out of here?” questioned Sarah as she edged her way towards the stairs, the flashlight quivering in her hand. A somewhat devilish smile crept upon Derek’s face, but it diminished when he noticed Sarah’s gaze fall upon him. She motioned “after you”, and stepped aside so Derek could pass up the stairs once more. 
Derek was very close with his grandmother. After she was too old to chase him around the yard, he would help her with tasks around the house. She was his second mother, which was much needed due to the absence of his father and the alcoholic, abusive tendencies of his real mother. In fact, he was probably closer with his grandmother than he was with anyone else on the planet. Through the adversity they both faced in life, they relied on each other.
Sarah and Derek neared the exit, but as Sarah stepped on and nearly tripped over a protruding floorboard, a loud creak caused them to freeze. The beam on the top of the doorframe fell, narrowly missing Sarah’s head. She jolted back and screamed, unable to catch her breath. She eventually broke the stillness and mosied over the fallen beam. “I can’t believe we actually made it out of there alive!” joked Sarah, walking out of the house as fast as possible, practically leaving Derek in a trail of dust. 
Derek followed behind, chuckled a bit, and replied, “Oh, if only you knew.” Immediately after saying this, Derek opened up a small, black box he carried in his jacket pocket and plunged a stainless steel knife deep into Sarah’s back. She immediately squealed and crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain. In her dying breaths, she caught eyes with her former lover, and watched in agony as a sinister grin fell upon his face, wider than any she had ever seen before, as he bent down and slit her throat.
Not much was said about Sarah’s murder. Given Derek’s natural prowess in the act of execution, and the fact that she was forced to keep their whereabouts a secret, it was covered up as a hike gone awry that lead to a botched robbery. About two months after Sarah’s death, Derek strolled into a Staples near his neighborhood. He walked in and bought one simple item, a pocket-sized yellow notebook, knowing that his old one had now been completely filled up and thus, been made unusable. As he was checking out, he caught eyes with a particularly attractive cashier and struck up a conversation. Charismatic as ever, he was able to get her number. Upon leaving the store he immediately began texting her, and while doing so, he began to wonder if the old “dead grandmother’s treasure” trick would work again, or if this girl would be the one to finally catch onto his scheme. Either way, he had a new notebook to fill up, and he did not intend for Sarah’s name to be his last.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Places