Brussels Nerds' Creative Writing Club: 2012/10/10 Exercise: Horror

There they go again. Every day at precisely half past seven in the evening I hear the couple upstairs having sex. Brutally. Like the world was going to end the next day. I hate it. I hate them. But I can't restrain myself from listening, from imagining their sweating bodies tangled, her nipples being pinched, his back scratched by her fingernails.

Another day at the office came and went uneventfully. Nothing to remark. Conversations about the weather and another Excel spreadsheet filled.

The tram ride back home shows me the same faces, the same fatigue, the same lives going down the drain.

I have never seen the couple upstairs, so now I try to find them everywhere. This girl sitting in front of me could be her, but for some reason her face doesn't fit the moaning and the shouting I hear upstairs. That postman could be him, but he's not strong enough for that loud spanking.

It's half past seven and I hear their bed creaking. The beginning is always like that, quiet. The rough stuff comes later. Today, they have a whip.

I have been laid off at work. My last spreadsheet was a disaster. Maybe my mind was too full of handcuffs, cocks, nipples and hardcore penetrations.

The faces in the tram are different at this time of the day. But I guess that man in a suit is not him and that teenage girl with the headphones is not her.

It's half past seven and I don't hear anything.
Eight o'clock and nothing yet.
I look for porn on the Internet and then go to bed.

I have nothing to do.

It's half past seven and not a sound from upstairs.
I look for S&M porn on the Internet and go to bed.

I'm beginning to worry. Today is the third silent day. Maybe I should call the police, but how would I explain the situation? Maybe I should go check myself.
I look for extreme sex on the Internet and go to bed.
I can't sleep.
I can't sleep after masturbating.
I get up. I should see if everything is alright upstairs.

The corridor is dark but I don't dare to turn the light on. My mobile phone guides me. I put my ear against the door. Everything is quiet.
I decide to exit through the window onto the fire escape. Their apartment is dark. A window is a little bit open, so I pull it up and crawl inside.

I get up on my feet and walk towards what I assume is the bedroom, based on the distribution of my own apartment.
I hear noises. A soft moaning and heavy breathing.
The door is not locked, so I push it gently.

There is a couple having sex. She is riding him, so none of them can see me.

'What the hell are you doing?' I ask
She cries loudly, startled, and jumps to the side.
'What the fuck!' he shouts.
'Why are you having sex like regular people?' I shout in return. 'Where are the whips? The spanking? The hot wax on her nipples?'
'Are you crazy?' she asks, still shouting.
'What are you talking about?' he says, trying to understand.

I go to the kitchen and take the biggest knife.
When I get back to the bedroom, he is getting dressed and she's still hiding underneath the covers, tears in her eyes. He freezes.

'Undress' I say, voice as cold as ice. He does.
'You, on all fours' I order her. She does.
I tell him to spank her. 'Harder! What are you, a mouse? HARDER!'.
He does and she cries.
'Get inside her. Now.'
There are tears in his eyes too. I slap him so he doesn't cry any more.
'You, girl, stop the tears. You, in her ass.'
She says no with her head and turns to me. As he's about to speak, I punch his imploring face with my fist and he loses some teeth.

The door bangs open with a kick and two policemen materialize. I can see some neighbours behind them. Fucking neighbours.

'Freeze!' the policemen shout. How unoriginal.

So I slash the hand of one of them and the pistol drops and I laugh loudly. The other policeman has fear in his eyes, but he fires his gun anyway.
A sea of pain paralyzes my senses, but I still have the ability to put the knife in that bitch's side, just above the waist.

The last thing I hear is a cacophony of shouts, sobs and sheer terror.
I smile.

Source: http://creativewritingbrussels.blogspot.com/2012/10/20121010-exercise-horror.html

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