THIRD GRADE

UNIT 1B

SUSPENSE LITERATURE

Suspense... is a feeling of pleasurable fascination and excitement mixed with apprehension, tension, and anxiety developed from an unpredictable, mysterious, and rousing source of entertainment. The term most often refers to an audience's perceptions in a dramatic work. Suspense is not exclusive to fiction. It may operate whenever there is a perceived suspended drama or a chain of cause is left in doubt, with tension being a primary emotion felt as part of the situation.

READING TIPS

There are 8 strategies that good readers use while reading to increase comprehension:

1. Making Connections

   Good readers make connections to what they are reading.  They connect the reading to their own experiences, things in the world, and other stories they have read.  Readers should be thinking, "What does this remind me of?"

2. Prior Knowledge

   Good readers think about what they already know about a topic to help improve their understanding.  They should always ask themselves, "What do I already know about this topic?"

3. Ask Questions

   Good readers question what they are reading.  Questions can be asked before, during and after reading.  Readers think, "What do I wonder?"

4. Visualization

   Good readers use their 5 senses to imagine what is happening in the reading.  What can you see, hear, feel, smell and taste?  "It's like a movie in my head!"

5. Inference

   Good readers combine what they already know with what they learned in the reading to come to a conclusion or make predictions. "Read between the lines!"

6. Determine what is Important

   Good readers can pull out the information that is of most value.  "The text was mostly about..."

7. Summarizing

   Good readers can retell the main details of a story in only a few sentences.

8. Synthesizing

   Good readers can go beyond the text and combine their own knowledge with the reading to create something new.

WRITING SUSPENSE STORIES

Nine tricks to try Suspense is a hard discipline to master, but the following tips will help to ensure a thrilling experience for the reader:

1. Give the reader a lofty viewpoint. The reader should have foresight. Let the reader see the viewpoints of both the protagonist and the antagonist. By giving the reader a ringside seat to the story’s developments, she gets to see the trouble before the protagonist does. The reader sees the lines of convergence between the protagonist and antagonist and feels the consequences of the perils ahead. Also, this technique allows the writer to place emotional weight on the reader. The tension will build from the reader’s self-imposed fears of knowing that the hero is on a collision course with disaster.

2. Use time constraints. Another key way to build suspense is through the use of time. The protagonist should be working against the clock, and the clock should be working for the bad guys. In Robert Ludlum and Gayle Lynds’ The Altman Code, Covert One agent Jon Smith has only days to prove the Chinese are sending chemical weapon materials to Iraq. In Greg Iles’ 24 Hours, Will and Karen Jennings have one day to escape their captors to rescue their child from a kidnapper. Every minute you shortchange the protagonist is another notch up on the burner under the reader’s seat.

3. Keep the stakes high. This doesn’t necessarily mean the story’s hook has to be about global annihilation. But the story must be about a crisis that’s devastating to the protagonist’s world, and the hero must be willing to do anything to prevent it from occurring. Therefore, the story could be about a father trying to rescue his wife and child from an impending flood, or an innocent man who’s framed for murder going on the run to establish his innocence. The crisis has to be important to ensure readers will empathize with the protagonist.

4. Apply pressure. The protagonist should be working under what seems to be insurmountable odds. All his skills and strengths must be stretched to the breaking point in order to save the day. The hero should bend, but never buckle under the pressure the antagonist applies. There should be only one person left feeling helpless in the story, and that’s the reader.

5. Create dilemmas. Suspense loves a dilemma. The antagonist needs to be throwing things at the protagonist that present awkward challenges or choices that will test her caliber. The choice must seemingly be a lose-lose situation for the protagonist. This may take the form of choosing to save one person while leaving another to die, picking up a gun after swearing an oath never to do so again or taking that offered drink after years of sobriety.

The antagonist, by his nature, will cross lines without a second’s thought, while fully conscious of his actions. But the protagonist is a different breed—as a hero, he can’t let innocent people die without a fight, or stray from his morals or promises. The great thing about dilemmas is that they need time to be solved, and with the pressure of time constraints, the tension can only build. So test, tease and tempt the protagonist.

6. Complicate matters. Pile on the problems. Give the protagonist more things to do than he can handle. The hero has to be stretched wafer-thin. If you’ve ever seen one of those old music-hall acts where spinning plates are perched on top of flimsy bamboo poles, and there’s some poor guy running himself ragged trying to keep all the plates from crashing down, well, that’s how it should be for the protagonist. The hero should be that guy trying to keep all those plates spinning, while the antagonist is forever adding another plate to the line. By the end of the book, the protagonist should be just barely preventing everything from crashing to the ground.

Let’s use The Altman Code and 24 Hours as examples again. In The Altman Code, Jon Smith’s problems are further complicated by having to break the president’s father out of a Chinese prison camp. In 24 Hours, Will and Karen Jennings’ daughter is diabetic, and the kidnappers don’t have her insulin. Both these examples add another layer of complication to their respective stories.

7. Be unpredictable. Nothing in life runs perfectly to plan for anyone. Make nothing straight-

forward for the protagonist. The hero shouldn’t be able to rely on anything going right for her, and any step forward should come at a price. The antagonist shouldn’t go unscathed, either.

In Newtonian physics, for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction. The sheer presence of the protagonist is going to gum up the antagonist’s plans, which means the antagonist is going to have to improvise. Both players will have to be quick-witted to deal with any and all upsets, especially as the story progresses toward its climax. Remember, the protagonist and antagonist don’t have to be the only monkey wrench in each other’s lives. Let outside forces be that, too. These characters might be locked in a do-or-die battle, but the rest of the world isn’t. Friends, neighbors, deliverymen and even public holidays can all be flies in the ointment. And don’t forget Mother Nature herself. A great illustration of this is the opening of Robert Crais’ Demolition Angel, where two bomb disposal experts are trying to defuse a bomb—and an earthquake occurs. Brilliant! Essentially, keep that storyline fluid. The reader might know what the story’s end game is, but this doesn’t mean they should know how it’s going to get there.

8. Create a really good villain. In a mystery, the villain has to be somewhat transparent because you don’t want the reader to catch on to who she is too quickly. But in a suspense novel, the bad guy is very visible. A great villain isn’t someone who twirls a handlebar moustache and ties damsels to railway tracks. The ultimate antagonists are smart and motivated. They have to be to have created this spectacular hook that’s going to keep readers riveted to their La-Z-Boys for the length of a book. Flesh this person out. Explore the antagonist’s motivations and character. Give the reader reasons why the antagonist is who he is. The reader has to believe in and fear this person. The villain has to be a worthy opponent to our hero. Anything else won’t do.

9. Create a really good hero. If the book has a great bad guy, then it’s going to need a great hero. This may be key to any story, but the suspense hero has to be someone the reader believes in and cares about. When the hero is in peril, the writer needs for the reader to hope that person will pull through.

Suspense writing is all about creating a pressure cooker with no relief valve. You have to keep turning up the heat using multiple burners. Employ these techniques and your reader will never come off the boil.

Positive and Negative Emotions

Emotion is Energy-in-Motion. It is a way of expressing oneself in life. It is the quality of how one relates to life.

The emotions expressed by humans can be divided into two broad categories. We can regard them as polarized, as opposite of each other, or we could just say that there is a dividing line where one type of emotions change into the other type of emotions.

We can call the two types of emotions Negative and Positive. That is not so much as value judgment as it is a description of the main action of each group. Judging either as "good" or "bad" isn't very helpful.

Negative emotions express an attempt or intention to Exclude. Strengthening one's own position at the expense of others. Keeping bad stuff away, destroying what is perceived as a threat. Negative emotions are fueled by an underlying fear of the unknown, a fear of the actions of others, and a need to control them or stop them to avoid being harmed.

Positive emotions express an attempt or an intention to Include. Taking the whole into consideration. Working on learning more viewpoints, interacting more with others, enjoying making things better. Positive emotions are fueled by an underlying desire for enjoyment and unity.

Negative emotions are, for example: apathy, grief, fear, hatred, shame, blame, regret, resentment, anger, hostility.

Positive emotions are, for example: interest, enthusiasm, boredom, laughter, empathy, action, curiosity.

WORDS FOR DESCRIBING FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS

Descriptive Words for Characters:  Physical Qualities

Positive			Negative
Active	Exquisite	Pretty	Awkward	Hideous	Ugly
Adept	Fair	Ravishing	Bizarre	Homely	Ungainly
Adroit	Fascinating	Robust	Cadaverous	Horrible	Unkempt
Agile	Good-looking	Shapely	Clumsy	Incongruous	Unmanly
Attractive	Graceful	Skillful	Coarse	Invidious	Unwomanly
Beautiful	Handsome	Spirited	Decrepit	Loathsome	Weak
Brawny	Hardy	Spruce	Effeminate	Odious
Charming	Immaculate	Stalwart	Emaciated	Repellent
Comely	Lively	Strapping	Feeble	Repugnant
Dainty	Lovely	Strong	Frail	Repulsive
Dapper	Manly	Sturdy	Gawky	Sickly
Delicate	Muscular	Virile	Ghastly	Slovenly
Dexterous	Neat	Vivacious	Graceless	Spare
Elegant	Nimble	Winsome	Grotesque	Thin

Descriptive Words for Characters: Mental Qualities

Positive		Negative
Apt	Learned	Bigoted	Stupid
Astute	Observant	Crass	Ungifted
Capable	Precocious	Dull	Unintellectual
Clever	Prudent	Fatuous	Unintelligent
Competent	Rational	Foolish	Unlettered
Crafty	Reasonable	Ignorant	Unschooled
Cunning	Sage	Illiterate	Vacuous
Educated	Scholarly	Inane
Erudite	Sensible	Irrational
Gifted	Shrewd	Narrow-minded
Ingenious	Subtle	Obtuse
Intellectual	Talented	Puerile
Intelligent	Wily	Shallow
Inventive	Wise	Simple

Descriptive Words for Characters:  Moral Qualities

Positive		Negative
Abstemious	Righteous	Base	Iniquitous
Austere	Straightforward	Corrupt	Intemperate
Chaste	Temperate	Deceitful	Notorious
Decent	Trustworthy	Degenerate	Reprobate
Exemplary	Truthful	Depraved	Ribald
Faultless	Undefiled	Dishonest	Sensual
Guileless	Upright	Dishonorable	Unprincipled
Honorable	Virtuous	Dissolute	Unscrupulous
Idealistic		Foul	Vicious
Innocent		Immoral	Vile
Pure		Incorrigible	Vulgar
Puritanical		Indecent	Wicked
Respectable		Infamous

Descriptive Words for Characters: Spiritual Qualities

Positive		Negative
Angelic		Agnostic	Materialistic
Devout		Atheistic	Mundane
Faithful		Blasphemous	Profane
Godlike		Carnal	Sacrilegious
Holy		Diabolic	Skeptical
Pious		Fiend like	Unregenerate
Regenerate		Godless
Religious		Impious
Reverent		Irrelevant
Saintly		Irreligious

Descriptive Words for Characters:  Social Qualities

Positive		Negative
Affable		Acrimonious	Irascible
Amiable		Antagonistic	Malevolent
Amicable		Anti-social	Misanthropic
Cheerful		Boorish	Obsequious
Civil		Brusque	Peevish
Congenial		Captious	Perverse
Convivial		Caustic	Petulant
Cooperative		Churlish	Provincial
Cordial		Contentious	Quarrelsome
Courteous		Crabbed	Rustic
Debonair		Critical	Shrewish
Elegant		Crusty	Sniveling
Genial		Cynical	Sulky
Gracious		Discourteous	Sullen
Hospitable		Fawning	Sycophantic
Jolly		Fractious	Uncivil
Jovial		Grumpy	Unctuous
Polite		Ill-bred	Ungracious
Politic		Ill-mannered	Unpolished
Sociable		Implacable	Unrefined
Suave		Impolite	Unsociable
Tactful		Imprudent	Waspish
Urbane		Insolent

Descriptive Words for Characters: General Qualities

Positive				Negative
Admirable	Gentle	Phlegmatic		Apathetic	Indiscreet	Rebellious
Altruistic	Gullible	Plucky		Arrogant	Inefficient	Recalcitrant
Ambitious	Humane	Punctual		Artificial	Insensitive	Reckless
Aristocratic	Humble	Radical		Avaricious	Insidious	Refractory
Artless	Illustrious	Reactionary		Boastful	Insignificant	Remiss
Assiduous	Imperturbable	Refined		Brutish	Intolerant	Reprehensible
Audacious	Imposing	Reserved		Bumptious	Irresolute	Ruthless
Benevolent	Impressive	Resolute		Bungling	Irresponsible	Sanctimonious
Candid	Indifferent	Resourceful		Callous	Lackadaisical	Scurrilous
Cautious	Indomitable	Responsive		Capricious	Lazy	Self-centered
Charitable	Indulgent	Reticent		Complacent	Lethargic	Self-indulgent
Circumspect	Industrious	Saturnine		Conceited	Listless	Silly
Compassionate	Influential	Saucy		Contemptible	Malicious	Slothful
Confident	Ingenious	Scrupulous		Contemptuous	Malignant	Smug
Conscientious	Intrepid	Sedate		Cowardly	Mediocre	Squeamish
Conservative	Kindly	Self-impassive		Craven	Mercenary	Stingy
Considerate	Laconic	Self-reliant		Cruel	Mischievous	Stubborn
Courageous	Liberal	Sensitive		Dilatory	Mulish	Timorous
Coy	Long-suffering	Serious		Disdainful	Niggardly	Traitorous
Cultured	Magnanimous	Shy		Dogmatic	Obdurate	Treacherous
Demure	Meek	Sober		Domineering	Obnoxious	Truculent
Determined	Melancholic	Solemn		Eccentric	Obstinate	Unambitious
Diffident	Merciful	Staid		Egotistical	Odd	Unreliable
Diligent	Moody	Stoical		Envious	Oppressive	Unruly
Discreet	Munificent	Strong-willed		Erratic	Ordinary	Unstable
Distinguished	Naïve	Sympathetic		Fastidious	Overconfident	Vain
Earnest	Natural	Taciturn		Fickle	Parasitic	Venal
Efficient	Noble	Thrifty		Frivolous	Parsimonious	Vindictive
Eloquent	Nonchalant	Timid		Gluttonous	Perfidious	Voracious
Eminent	Patient	Tolerant		Haughty	Petty	Wearisome
Enthusiastic	Pensive	Unaffected		Headstrong	Pharisaical	Willful
Flippant	Persevering	Uncompromising		Hypocritical	Pompous	Worthless
Forbearing	Persistent	Valorous		Imperious	Prejudiced
Frugal	Persuasive	Wary		Impetuous	Prolix
Garrulous	Pert	Well-bred		Imprudent	Proud
Generous	Philanthropic	Whimsical		Impulsive	Quixotic
Genteel	Philosophical	Witty		Incompetent	Rash
		Zealous

Reading 1

A Nightmare

ENGLISH SHORT STORY BY ABOLI             

PUBLISHED ON JUL-13-2013

Our footsteps echoed down the stairs as we reached the dimly lit lobby. The clock on the opposite struck 8:00. The usual bustle and chatter of after-class students was followed by their eagerness to return home. We were art students being tutored in this ramshackle of a school for our Intermediate Art Examinations. We had to stay back late in another school as a specially gifted art teacher used to commute a long distance to teach us. Our school didn’t permit late night classes so we were shifted to Our Lady of Roe High school.

The classes usually ended at 7:00 in the evening but teacher herself had turned up late today and hence the delay. I was at the back of the group, walking alone when Isha strode up to me with a request, “Malini, can I borrow your geometry box for today? Mine has been stolen.”

“Sure.” I replied as I slipped my hand into my bag and groped around. Something did not feel right…where was it? Sweat formed on my upper lip. Had I left it in the classroom? Of course I had.

“I think I forgot it in the class, Isha. I’ll go and get it now.” I replied.

“Are you crazy? Don’t go back in there! Besides the lights on any of the floors in this wrecked school aren’t working.” Isha cried.

“True, I don’t know why they make us wait here for so long…some people say this school is haunted.” A student chimed in.

“They should pull down this building…I don’t understand why they didn’t hold the classes in our own school” Another declared.

“It’s because that old hag…— I didn’t get to hear the comment of that boy since I had slunk away to climb the stairs and reach my class.

Nervously shifting the bag from shoulder to shoulder I pushed the door of my class open and stepped in. I flicked up the main light switch. The room was flooded with fluorescent light. I found my box just where I had left it. Relieved, I put it in my bag. As I advanced towards the light switch to click it off I froze in midway. My ears had caught a soft crack. Turning around I looked about the room. The source of the sound was a couple of chalk-sticks which had fallen, probably due to the wind and had broken. I replaced them and left the room. As I hurried past the classes something, once more, made me stop abruptly.

The light in one of the classes was on. I stepped in puzzled. ‘There weren’t lights in any of the classrooms when I came here…then why…?’ My thoughts wandered. Nevertheless I went over to the switch which was at the end of the aisle and flicked it off. The next moment I heard a thump. I turned around startled. There was another thump, a sort of a wet squishy thump. My throat turned dry. I flipped on the lights again but this time they began flickering. I stared frightened and swallowed hard. I gasped loudly when I saw a solitary figure moving towards me.

In the eerie half-light I could make out the figure of a woman. She wore torn and bloodied clothes. They came up to her thighs and her arms and legs were covered with scars. The clothes stuck close to her body and long loose hair covered her entire face. She moved slowly in a drunkard like fashion and her slick feet made wet thumps on the floor. I was immobilized. Panic stricken yet with presence of mind I slid between the benches of the middle row planning to make escape by dashing into the last aisle and running a roundabout way to the door. But alas, my clumsiness played the devil. As I made a dash for the door I tripped on the leg of the bench and fell. I grabbed out wildly and gripped the desk to haul myself up but ended up bringing down the whole desk on myself. My head hit the edge of the bench hard and I blacked out.

The red light before my eyes faded. I opened them slowly. The blur of faces drifted before me. I blinked myself awake. I sat up. I was on a bench. It was the same bench on which I had stumbled. The desk was on its place. I looked around the lights were back to normal. I stared at my friends for an explanation.

‘We heard you scream so we came to check. We didn’t find you in our own class so we assumed you may have fled from the middle stairs. We were just walking back when Chetali saw you stretched out on the bench in this class. The light was on. Tell us what happened.’ They expounded.

‘But the table fell on me! How was I on the bench?’ I thought. I wished to mention the encounter but hesitated for the fear of being ridiculed.

We trooped out of the school campus and I decided to laugh it off. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. I had a good imagination but being a story producing freak gave you nightmares and hallucinations. With a setting like this who wouldn’t? Curiosity made me lag behind everyone and I quietly glanced back at the building only to freeze.

There. Watching me from one of the windows with a grin was the girl ghost.

END

Reading 2

The magician

ENGLISH SHORT STORY BY HASEEB ZAFFAR        

PUBLISHED ON JUL-3-2013

Hugo arranged his old coat properly and was waiting and listening to the claps and noise that the spectators were making while his master James Douglas was addressing them. As he waited besides the curtains at one side of the stage he heard his master say now my associate Mr. Hugo will shoot me with a gun while I will try to catch the bullet in my mouth.

Hugo came in front of the audience and they all clapped. He had heard them clap before a thousand times, but all the glory all the fame was not for him to keep but his master the great magician James Douglas. Douglas announced anyone to come forward to check the genuinity of the gun.

One man came on the stage he checked the gun, the iron ball which was to be the bullet and even the gun powder. Hugo looked at the man impatiently; as he has seen hundreds of them checking the instruments before and none had ever found anything wrong for there was no trickery in the tools. It was the place where the bullet in the barrel was kept that mattered. These guns were used earlier by people but now they only existed in museums and with magicians doing the bullet catch stunt. The powder was loaded into the pistol but the bullet that the people expected to be thrashed deep inside the barrel of the gun was just kept on the outer brim of the barrel. The little alteration made the bullet eject slowly, enough for any person to catch it but the audience couldn’t notice the change.

Hugo adjusted the bullet on the brim and aimed it right at the great magician. Hugo had been working for him for the last 20 years .he had come as a boy and agreed to work for Douglas hoping to become a great magician himself, and he could become one if Douglas was dead, for he knew all the tricks all the stunts that Douglas knew and even better but with Douglas alive he could not dare to start his own show. only if he would die then the stage would be Hugo’s the men working for Douglas would be his for Douglas had no family.

The audience was silent and all were staring at the two. Hugo remembered how he escorted Douglas everywhere anywhere, but he was never appreciated more and never had Douglas given Hugo a chance to perform himself on the stage, only if he would die today thought Hugo the coming days would be his. He looked straight into Douglas bright excited eyes. In the coming years his eyes would also look as excited though Hugo whose eyes right then seemed to burn with rage.

He quickly his put finger in front of the barrel and pushed the bullet deep inside. The audience didn’t notice Douglas did but before he could do anything the bullet had blown his brains. Hugo screamed, the audience screamed the doctor came rushing and declared him dead. Hugo was crying in front of the crowd but deep inside he was just happy. The newspaper termed it as an accident. Now the stage was Hugo’s, the audience was Hugo’s.

20 years later the same newspaper wrote;’ the great magician Hugo died accidentally in a stunt called as ‘catching the bullet’. The bullet that his 20 year old associate shot at him blew his brains out while he was trying to catch it with his mouth.

END

Reading 3

Through the Eyes of a Killer

ENGLISH SHORT STORY BY SUNNYBRIDGES        

PUBLISHED ON JUL-25-2013

I look at the woman as she lays there dying. My stomach grows as it always did when I was working. I ignore it going back to work on my masterpiece. I had only wanted to scare her at first, a sick joke to get back at her for all the times she had treated me like I was less than her. Still sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. What I wanted was to scare her. What I needed was to torture her. To make her as ugly as she made me feel each and everyday. Her eyes, those eyes that longed for release seemed so sad. Even before I made the first incision. I almost felt sorry for her though almost is at times short lived. She lets out one final scream as her soul leaves this world. I walk away a porcelain doll painted beautifully against a moonlight backdrop on this cold autumn night.

I wake up next to my wife, sweet dripping down my face. My palms are shaking. I reach over caressing her blonde hair. Like silk against my skin. I kiss her closing my eyes. I open them again to see the blonde again…no a woman with red locks smiles back at me. We make love for a few minutes then get dressed and head into the kitchen. I sit down at the dinning room table as she hands me a cup of coffee and the morning paper. Not too black and not with a lot of cream and sugar. Just right. I sip at it as I open the paper to read the sports page. A few minutes go by she places a plate filled with eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes down in front of me. I put the paper down. Picking up the fork to eat.

She smiles as words escape her lips “I will be home late tonight Robert. Judith is having a baby shower for her daughter Grace tonight.”

I nod smiling though deep down inside baby showers were death to a man. I knew this all men knew this. It meant that all the fun you had had to make the child would soon be out the window. A dream that was just out of reach. My wife Lucy had always wanted to have a baby but to no avail she was barren. Lucy leaves going to her job as a psychologist for the criminally insane. I go back to my coffee and paper this time reading the headline. The car engine roars from outside- the coffee cup falls from my hand in slow motion-shattering into a million pieces. The blonde I had dreamt about. Her lifeless corpse was on the front page there to haunt me during my waking hours. Those empty eye sockets, ruby red lips and perfect…no this was not happening. Only a nightmare that I was trapped inside of. I stand up running past the kitchen. It’s walls white with brown cabinets. I must have still been sleeping up the lightly gray carpeted staircase. I begin to feel dizzy the world around me becoming disillusioned. The white flowery blanket covers something or someone. I grasp the sheet praying that I am still asleep. Pulling back the blanket quickly I see the bed is empty nothing underneath. I fall to my knees passing out on the carpet below.

“Robert? Robert?” I hear her voice. I hear her speak my name frantically. Slowly the blonde woman comes in to view. A white dress adjourns her small frame. Eye sockets devoid of life pierce deep within my soul. A black liquid flows from the emptiness within. I blink feeling as though my world was becoming a series of nightmares and reality. Slowly blending together to drive me insane. The woman fades into Lucy kneeling down in front of me. Her hand gently stroking my hair a look of concern filled her eyes.

“What happened” she asked me. I could not answer only sit there for a moment to figure out what was going on.  Time seemed to slow down for awhile my thoughts wondering if Lucy was real or if I was loosing my sanity. Who was the woman I kept seeing? I had to find out. Without a word I stood up running out of the house. I could not be in there, something was drawing me towards it. I was a moth to the flame. The woman had been found in a garden near Fifth and Main. The police had already searched the area and had found nothing. No weapon of any sort that could have been used to murder this poor woman. Yet as if I had been there I knew where to look. An old tree just a few feet from where the body had laid decomposing in the dirt. My fingers glide over the trunk of the tree. Lightly tapping at the wood till I hear a part that was hollow.

My fingers dig at the loosened piece of bark that had been cut out then placed neatly back. A small hole had been carved inside. It was small enough to hide something little and only big enough to allow two fingers to slip through. I take my thumb and forefinger pinching at the bit of metal that poked out. Carefully I remove the scalpel from the base of the tree and grip it in the palm of my hand. I had never held a scalpel, nor had I ever gone to medical school. Yet it felt as natural for it to be in my hand as each breath I took. I fall to the dirt and once again my world goes black.

I awaken in an alley  my knees pressed tightly against my chest. My clothes are wet how I cannot remember. Perhaps it had ran while I slept out here. Why was I out here? Didn’t I have a home to go too? The sound of footsteps approaching catch my attention. I look towards the sound, nervously wondering who was coming. I see her stroll up to me. Lucy…my wife… not my wife. Lucy is a doctor for the criminally insane. I remember now. She knells next to me smiling.

“You did good Robert.” she whispers in my ear. I feel the prick of something sharp piercing my skin. A knife? No a needle filled with some drug. I look at Lucy my world becoming a blur once again. “Sleep dear boy and fear not you won’t remember a thing”

If only Lucy had been right. I wish that when I woke up again I could not remember. My eyes slowly open I am in a hospital bed and there is a woman sitting next to my bed. Lucy… it had to be. She had set me up for murder and had kept me asleep this whole time. I grunt slightly to catch her attention. She stands up bolting for the door. I can hear her scream for the doctors to hurry. A sound of relief and joy in her voice. What a good actress she would make. Her hand caress my hair gently. I grab the I.V that was feeding me fluids, ripping it fro my arm. Blood begins flow out of my arm as I plunge the needle into her neck. I hear her scream. Something about “Why Robert?” and I think I hear an “I loved you.”

Her body falls across me. The doctors finally come in their eyes wide with panic at the scene. I didn’t care anymore. I had gotten my revenge.

“What happened?”

that voice? I knew that voice. But how? I look at the doctor standing there as everything finally comes into focus. There she was safe and sound…Lucy. But how was she alive? Had I not killed her? I look at the body. The blonde woman laid there her blood soaking the sheets. I leap out of bed knocking the blonde from off me. I push Lucy to the side and take off passed the doctors, passed the security. I run towards the door marked stairs and head up them. My blood leaving a trail for them to follow. I make my way to the rooftop this had to be a dream it had to be. I stand on the ledge over looking the world below. I close my eyes and step off, the world rushes up to greet me and then darkness.

“Bravo, Robert, Bravo.” the voice is scratchy and harsh. “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you.”  I look up my body felt like it had been burned over and over again. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“Who am I? Well you can just call me Lucifer.” he says stepping out of the shadows “As for where you are…well dear boy this has been your home for the last several years.”

Did he just say years. I had to wonder what I had done that would have gotten me a spot in hell. Still none of it mattered I was happy to finally be awake.So none of it was real only a demented illusion as part of my torment. I smile walking away whistling “Do your ears hang low”.

The End