Roses Are Dead

It was a warm windy day I was inside watching TV. My parents and older brother Kevin were out shopping. It took unusually longer than normal for my parents to arrive home. When they got home they were soaking wet and they told me that there was a car accident and Kevin didn’t survive. After four years I saw my parents get killed by an intruder. After that I pushed myself to survive through high school and get a job. I didn’t kill anyone for a while; I don’t know what caused me to kill them. It just seemed to happen after a while. I was living at my house and one night, I stayed up late, and went out. I worked at a romance store that sells items to help with relationships. I unpacked the shipping deliveries so occasionally I could take an item without anyone being suspicious. This time I took a rose; to me it signified my name, for my last name is Rose. I took a heart necklace and broke it in to two pieces. I put one in each pocket.

After work I took a knife from my kitchen. It wasn’t the biggest knife, it was just the way the blade glimmered that attracted my attention. That night I went out and found a girl, she was alone; so beautiful. She had long silky blonde hair that gleamed in the moonlight; her dress fit her body oh so perfectly. I talked to her and went home with her. I caressed her body as she did with mine. As we began to undress a rush went through my body I grabbed the knife from my clothing and stabbed into her throat. The blood poured out, the crimson stream flowing down her body. I took the right half of the heart necklace from my right pocket. I left to my car and grabbed a rose; I carefully placed it symmetrically on her body. After that I went home, I cleaned the knife as best as I could. I couldn’t understand the feeling I had from taking someone’s life.

After a couple of weeks rolled by I had gathered up my knife again. I took a necklace and rose from work and placed each item in their rightful positions. After work I began driving around the town. I noticed a few girls but none seemed to catch my eye. Then I noticed a brunette girl. She was different, not so much as attractive but the way she dressed. The clothing she wore was so unique; the bright colors drew so much attention. I started a conversation with her and coaxed her to come with me. I drove her to a group of houses that were recently built and have not been lived in yet. I brought her inside one house and stabbed her neck. I placed the right side of the heart necklace in her neck, and cautiously placed the rose over her chest.

I never understood why I did it. I always felt so guilty after taking a life. I just seemed to do it. It was like a dark part of me that I could not control. As if something burned deep inside my soul. I killed two more women before I saw the news report of the Rose Bed Killer. After that I had left myself at home for a couple days feeling so guilty; but later forced the strength to get back to work. After all I just had to unload packages. I worked for a few more days then I saw her; she was so beautiful. I just had to meet her. I heard my brother’s voice saying “don’t do that” as I was aimlessly looking over at her, then a crate fell and I had escaped it just in time. I picked up the contents of the crate… strange; there was a heart necklace there. The necklace must have been misplaced. I took it and cleaned up the mess. I decided not to take a rose this time. Instead I went to a flower shop and bought a dozen roses. Tonight will be sleepless I thought. That night I took my knife placed the dozen roses in my car. Took a collection of heart necklaces I stashed away and drove off. The night was young; I coaxed a pair of girls into meeting with me. I killed them both and followed my process. Each motion was like clockwork. I killed eleven girls that night; I kept the twelfth heart necklace and rose and drove home. I pressed the rose in a plastic sheet. I needed something to remember the night by.

A few days later I went to work. After a few hours I saw some policemen questioning the store owner. He pointed at me; the police ran towards me. They took me in. What did I do? I thought. Then I remembered. I shouted “Oh god I killed them all!” the police began to drag me towards a cop car. At that moment I knew my life was over. I was taken in, questioned, but the questions made no sense. They asked “why did he kill them” I answered “I killed them because I wanted to” I had no idea what they were talking about. They locked me in a room and after a while I was placed here in this room. I was told to explain my story. “Why am I not in jail right now?”

A man walks out of the interviewing room. He walks over to the police and says “he’s apparently blocked his brother’s actions from his mind and viewed his life from partial points of view from his brother. It all started when his brother killed his parents and told him about it. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened so he had created an illusion of a life. When his brother killed he followed him; witnessing his murders he viewed them as his own.”

Written by: Kylan Walker

Concept by: Kylan Walker & Ricky Wilson