I'm so glad you're interested enough in my story to read a second excerpt!
In the real version, there is no message in blood on the walls...
Just so ya know.
Anyways, here's another part. I won't tell ya how it all fits together,
But I will tell you one thing:
This part of the story is told by a different person.
"I grabbed them both by the sleeves of their petticoats, which Margaret and I had bought them for Christmas the previous year. Oh, how they kicked and screamed! To witness such alarm, such terror, such desperation coming from my own children�it almost brought tears to my eyes.
"I dragged the two pitiful creatures through the door at the end of the hall and to the right, the basement door, and down the tall, wooden steps. Their screams increased greatly as we descended the staircase: William's cries grew louder and deeper, while Delilah's became so high-pitched and obstreperous, she began bawling at the top of her lungs. 'No, Daddy, no!' the helpless girl pleaded. 'Daddy, please, don't!'
"Reaching the bottom of the staircase, I dropped the children from my grasp against the wall to the left of me. Dangling from a nail on this wall was an old, rusty hammer with a wooden handle; I grabbed it. William tried to escape during the split second when I wasn't looking, but I caught him with my foot.
"The boy was crying now. Pushing the twins against the wall, I held Delilah firmly in place and turned my head to William, wiping several tears from him puffy cheeks. 'Thank you for volunteering to go first, William,' I said with a smile. Then I stood abruptly. 'I hope you'll be more respectful in the future!'
"I raised the rusty hammer above my head, far enough to collect a good amount of force, and, as the little boy looked up at me with big blue eyes and uttered one last cry of desperation, I lowered the weapon and struck him quickly in the head.
"His yelling stopped at once, and his body fell to the floor, limp. His skull had been caved in a bit by the blow, cracked and broken off. A pool of blood surrounded his tiny corpse. His face was barely distinguishable; quite sad, really. Such a beautiful, angelic face, gone completely to waste.
"Delilah's voice had grown louder now. The blood and brains of her brother had splattered her face. Tears poured out of her eyes like fountains as she wailed, begging for her life, screaming for her mommy.
"I fell to my knees and brushed the hair from her face. 'There, there, Delilah,' I whispered. 'Don't you understand, my darling? Mommy's not here now. Mommy won't be here ever again, as far as you're concerned.'
"The child's weeping increased, and she began struggling and kicking again.
"I sighed as I rose to my feet. 'Now, now, you're only making it harder on yourself,' I told her matter-of-factly. 'Learning a lesson can a be very difficult.' One final yelp of horror escaped from her mouth, just as the rusty old hammer struck her temple. It killed her more quickly and perhaps less painfully than her brother. I had intended it that way, because only William had tried to escape.
"I was satisfied with the lesson I'd given my children. I felt that I had taught them well, and perhaps it would, in fact, improve them in some way. I repositioned my rusty hammer on it's nail in the wall.
"I proceeded to the back of the basement, where the mattresses and bedding sets were stored. I removed two white sheets from a large pile of our belongings, wrapped each one carefully around a child's neck to prevent the flow of blood to the head, and used the excess cloth to mop up the puddles of blood and brains from the floor. After soaking up as much of the gore as possible, I stacked William's frail, lifeless body on top of Delilah's and carried them to the rear end of the basement. Then I gently placed them on the floor, behind a rather short wall of boxes.
