She Lived Alone
She Lived Alone genocide stories
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fgjoslem
fgjoslem Fear.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Who's inside her house?

She Lived Alone

Dorothy scrapes the bottom of the pan, scooping up the scrambled eggs in the yellow liquid.

When the eggs are finished, she shovels them onto her plate, joining them with the pancakes slathered in butter and syrup, and the thin juicy bacon.

Dorothy takes a knife and fork out of one of the kitchen drawers and places them on a napkin that lay next to the breakfast plate.

She then sat a tall glass of orange juice on the table as well as a banana.

She smiled to herself. This was one of the perks of living alone with no one to take care of but herself. Not having to make breakfast for anyone but yourself.

When her set-up was complete, Dorothy went to sit down, but stopped.

She needed to use the bathroom.

Dorothy walked down the hall to the bathroom, leaving the plate, juice, and silverware in their places.

When she finished going to the bathroom (and washed her hands, of course), Dorothy walked into her dining room, feeling much more relieved.

She sat down in front of her plate of food and picked up her silverware.

But there was a huge bite taken out of one of the pancakes.

Dorothy looked at her plate, confused.

She could have sworn she went to the bathroom without eating anything.

Had she?

Dorothy thought for a moment.

Maybe she had.

If you thought about it, there was no one else here to take a bite out of anything.

After all, she lived alone.

So she must have.

Dorothy dismissed the idea and finished her plate in silence.

After she was done, she washed her off her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

After she got dressed, she grabbed her purse and hurried to work.

The next morning, Dorothy decided to not a make a bigger breakfast, as she was already running late for work.

She instead poured some milk into a bowl of cereal.

Dorothy never really ate cereal, and the only box of cereal she had was a box of alphabet cereal she had for her nephew when she babysitted him.

She sat down in front of the bowl, but then decided to go get her purse and put it next to her, just so she wouldn't have to go looking for it and she could leave right away.

Dorothy got up from the table, went to her bedroom to get her purse, and came back to the dining room.

She sat down in front of the bowl again. She picked up her spoon and looked down into the bowl, poised to scoop a spoonful.

But she stopped.

Dorothy noticed that the cereal seemed pushed over to the edges of the bowl, the bowl outlining the ring that it had made.

Except for ten letters floating in the middle, unmistakably spelling,

'TURN AROUND'

Again, Dorothy was confused, but this time, her heart started beating a little fast.

It's just a coincidence, she told herself.

You were probably messing with the cereal, pushing it to the outer edges because it's one of your stupid habits and those ten pieces conveniently floated from that ring you made.

There was no way someone else was in here messing with her cereal.

After all, she lived alone.

Just to get the edging feeling off of her, Dorothy turned around.

One of the kitchen drawers were wide open.

She hurriedly jumped up out of her chair to shut the drawer, but noticed something inside the drawer.

In this drawer, Dorothy kept a collection of kitchen knives perfectly lined up together smallest to largest.

But the largest knife was gone.

Dorothy looked around in that drawer to see if it was turned completely sideways.

When she didn't find it, she opened and shut a couple of other kitchen drawers to see if she might have misplaced it.

But she couldn't find it anywhere.

Dorothy stood there, mind racing.

Maybe she left it somewhere around the house?

She glanced at her watch.

There was no time to find it.

She had to get to work.

Dorothy rinsed the bowl of cereal out into the sink without eating it, and put it in the dishwasher.

She then headed off to work again.

After work, she pulled up into her driveway feeling awfully sluggish.

After her shift and the night sky looming over her, Dorothy would love nothing more than to just lay down and sleep.

She went into her house and set her purse and keys down on the kitchen counter.

She then noticed one of the drawers wide open.

Dorothy walked over to push it shut, but she looked inside and remembered that she needed to find the knife that went missing.

It obviously wasn't in the kitchen, so she looked around other parts of her house.

After desperately searching the other parts of the house, Dorothy walked into the bathroom and looked around.

She shut the door behind her and looked to see if it was behind the door.

It wasn't.

After she frantically searched bathroom, Dorothy sat on the lid of the toilet and rubbed her temples.

She had a throbbing headache.

Dorothy sat there for a few minutes.

But before she could even stand...

...her phone went off in the other room.

Dorothy groaned in irritation.

She stood up and grabbed the brass doorknob.

Then she screamed when a large knife cut through the door from the other side, slamming the lock against the door frame.

Dorothy fell back and into the bathtub from the impact.

She hit her head on the other side of the tub with a hollow, 'thump!'

While she struggled to get up, the one who was on the other side of the door kept slamming the door with powerful force over and over again.

Until the lock finally broke.

Dorothy finally regained her balance when a firm masculine hand grabbed her by the neck.

She felt the sharp pain of the lost kitchen knife tear through the skin on her stomach, making her light-headed.

Dorothy attempted to cry out in fear and pain as she stared into the killer's eyes.

But the face was not a normal man's face.

It was distorted, half of his face looked about ready to peel off, and both of his eyes were different colors.

His twisted lips curled into a disgusting snarl.

There was a hint of vengeance in the man's eyes, and written on the man's grotesque face.

So why her?

Why was she targeted?

What did she due to deserve this?

Dorothy may never find out as she felt her consciousness slowly slipping away, draining out of her.

She tried to scream, but the scream always came out as what sounded like an exasperated moan.

Even if Dorothy could scream, no one would know.

After all, she lived alone.

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