Excert from horror novel
By Chantal Bellehumeur
Jacqueline Huntington was woken up in the middle of the night by her six year old son's diabolical laugh. As she walked along the narrow hallway towards his voice, she heard him whispering incomprehensible words and was startled by his sudden echoing shout.
It was not unusual to find Jack sleepwalking at random hours of the night. On several occasions, he had silently mutilated his sister's dolls by either removing parts of their fluffy white stuffing from a tear he had made on the so-called stomachs with the blade of a kitchen knife or cutting off plastic body parts with the same sharp cutlery. Pretty porcelain girls were smashed and left in dozens of pieces around the old Victorian house.
Jack could never remember his psychotic actions in the morning. All his memory would summon were the names he had chosen for the dolls he broke; Emma, Martha, Polly, Annie, Mary, Miss Farmer, Rose, Miss Jackson, Alice and Lydia. He once pointed towards new dolls and called them Francis and Carrie. This was right after pointing his left bony index finger at his younger sisters and verbalizing their names, Elizabeth and Catherine, which he had proudly chosen himself on the days of their births.
Jack was a very sweet boy when he was awake, so nobody understood why he acted out such horrorsin his sleep. He was not allowed to watch scary shows, including any cartoons that had monsters, ghosts, mummies, zombies, vampires, werewolves or other creepy characters in them. Books of the same type were not permitted either. Childish war games that included imaginary weapons were frowned upon and Jack always respected the non-violence
When Mrs.Huntington entered her beloved son's bedroom on the rainy night of September 30th, she saw that he was holding his father's silver dissection knife in his right hand. Jack had always given the impression that he was left-handed. The rest of Dr. Huntington's old dissection tools were still in the hard metal case beside him.
Jack's three year old sister, Catherine, lay lifeless right in front of him. Her throat had been cut open, leaving a thin horizontal red line from left to right. The young girl's stomach had been sliced open vertically and torn open on each side. It appeared that some of her internal organs were by her side, in a light pool of blood.
A piece of the dead girl's pinkish nightgown was left a few feet away. On the painted blue wall above the bloody torn fabric, the words "The Juwes are The Men That Will not be Blamed for nothing" were written in powdery white chalk.
It took a few seconds for Mrs. Huntington to understand that she was not having a terrible nightmare. As Jacqueline's shaking right hand rose towards her mouth to hide the hint of a squeal, Jack's head slowly turned towards hismother. "You're next" , he told her in his sleep.
Shortly after Mrs. Huntington's discovery, her husband came home from his surgical job at the general hospital to find his five-year-old daughter Elizabeth dead on the kitchen floor. Her throat had been cut from the right side to the left. Unlike her sister, the rest of her body remained untouched.
Although the experienced doctor was used to seeing open wounds and massive quantities of blood on a daily basis, he became sick at the sight of the darkened ceramic tiles and of his precious daughter's small murdered body. Her blank staring eyes seemed to tell him that he was too late to save her. Nothing could bring her back.
Dr. Huntington discreetly dialled the emergency phone number, 9-9-9, before searching his house for the rest of his family. He was careful and silent, keeping in mind that the killer might still be inside his home.
As he walked up the stairs, he saw the moving shadow of a short human being trying to bring down a surgical knife into a taller form. The tall shape managed to grab her attacker's wrist before he could hurt her, but could not take away his weapon. The doctor ran to the scene as fast as he could and was shocked to see his own son trying to wiggle his way out of Mrs. Huntington's tight grasp. The boy grunted furiously while his mother remained speechless and in tears.
The worst was yet to come.