Moving to Jordan

by Victoria
(Camas Washington)

Bloody Knife

Bloody Knife

"Look, Jordan." I squeezed my hands into his scrawny shoulders. "I'm moving, but I won't be far! I'll just be down the street!" Tears flooded from his face. I knew I was his best friend, though he was six years younger than me. I am a simple twelve year old, he is a little six year old who cries when I say our "play date" is over.


I know I broke his little heart, and my parents broke mine. I don't want to move into a condo! Those little teeny tiny houses all connected. I shuddered. "But why!?" He wailed. His face turned a bright red. "I'm sorry, but I will come and visit, you can call me on my cell phone after school and we can arrange some play time, okay?" I assured him. "Okay," He agreed, wiping his swollen eyes dry.

The only reason we were moving from our wonderful, medium sized home into a small condo was because my dad was pretty much out of work. He had a small tile setting business, and he barely worked twenty hours this MONTH. I sighed. I closed my eyes, only a few hour after saying bye to Jordan. My bed felt comforting underneath me.

I awoke to mother, calling me to breakfast. I got dressed and hovered over her, waiting for her Queue to get in my father's truck. She waved her hand at me. I ran outside and slammed the door as she followed with a arms full of random stuff, to small to fit in the moving van. Our stuff had been placed in front of our new house, prbably wet and gross by now.

I remember seeing jordan as we drove past his home; his tiny nostrils flared. His face was red yet white, like a ghost. I remember wincing as he threw with all his might a brick at us. Though it landed yards away from where he stood, didn't even get close to the truck. I still felt as if the heavy brick had landed on my heart, leaving it shattered as I watching Jordan disapear.

That night, when a lot of stuff had been moved inside, I was having nightmare. Jordan came to my new home, and killed me. It wasn't a detailed dream. I awoke with a jolt of energy in the morning. I kept wondering where my stuff was. The room I was in had... nothing. I screamed. Nothing. Nobody. Just nothing.

I saw Jordan on the ground next to me, he was balled into the fetal position, crying. I screamed as I noticed his usual rosy red cheeks were now spattered in blood. He got up quietly, death in his eyes. He pulled a knife from his pocket.

"Heaven isn't always good," He had said while pulling the knife from his pants pocket.

"Sometimes you end up re-living your death, over and over..." He trailed off as he put the knife against my throat, climbing to his tip-toes. "Over and over," He whispered in my ear.

Click here to post comments

Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Inviting Best Scary Stories.







Copyright © 2006 Short-Stories-Help-Children.com and contributors.