• This town, this town was empty. Empty, completely. Houses were burned, windows were destroyed. Everything was gone. Only me, and three other people. The people that destroyed this once beautiful town. The people that killed everyone that was home.

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    I was grinding my body on the side of the house, blood covered my face. I heard screaming, it souneded like it was coming from a very young boy. Then, the screaming stopped. Everything was still, and silent. The leaves crackled when I steped. I peeked through the dirty window, I couldn't belive what I saw. It was horrible. I threw up. Blood, blood, blood everywhere. Lungs, hearts, tongues, intestines, and others I don't wanna mention.

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    People hanging by their throats hanging by a thread, Every human body part was on the floor. I noticed that the mailbox of the house said, "Skorka 502". I saw the man look at me through the window. I turned around and ran, ran into a nearby house. I hid in the closet, very close cornered in here. I held my breath. Everything was still and silent. No movement, no noice. Nothing. Something fell, I jumped and screamed. I quickly covered my mouth.

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    I heard footsteps, stomping. Six feet, three people. I saw a cut, lacerated hand reach for the handle. Two more hands piled on top. And slowly took them off of the chipping handle. I took my hand off of my mouth, and relaxed thinking they would never come back. Boy, was I wrong. It was like my worse nightmare brought to life. They opened the door so fast, I didn't even see. They grabbed my shirt and pulled me down the hallway, and out the door. The other two strangers were carring weapons; a hachet, and a butcher knife. I saw them and my eyes widend, my jaw dropped. I started to cry, and scream on the top of my lungs, "NO, NO! LET ME GO YOU MURDERER! NO, NO!"

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    They dragged me down the stairs, I had to kill them. Rip them apart and burn the pieces. Dance on their grave. These friggin' killers. They have no soul. Crazy pshyco paths. I moved my hand in the way of his walking path, he tripped. I quickly got up and ran to the kitchen of the house. I grabbed a fork, I couldn't find a knife, but when the two strangers came in, I plunged the fork in both of their necks, killing them insantly. Scarlet liquid squirted from their disgusting bodies. Two down, one to go.

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    I tip-toed to where his body was when he tripped. He was still lying there. Twitching a little. Who knew a little trip could get someone in so much pain? I stabbed the bloody fork into his neck. Scarlet liquid slowly dripped from his chin. He was dead. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I screamed.

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