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Birthday
• 1991-06-19
Gender
• Male
Location
• Out of my mind.
• Bellevue, Nebraska
• Somewhere you'll never find me.
Member Since
• 2004-07-22
Occupation
• Student (10th)
• Lazy Bum
• Personal Web Designer
• Weirdo
Real Name
• Matt (duh!)
• Whatever I feel like going by at the moment
• There are other aliases, but I shall not name them here.

Personal

Achievements
• I'm learning how to play the piano...
• I figured parts of PHP out for myself.
• I'm one of the weirdest people I know.
Anime Fan Since
• Pretty much, I don't know!
Favorite Anime
• InuYasha, but I barely ever see it anymore...
Goals
• Get Good Grades
• Draw more fanart
• Learn Japanese (Eventually)
• Be able to write C++ programs
• Somehow, learn to draw.
Hobbies
• Computers and internet
• Programming
• Web Design
• I own some of the least visited sites on the internet! Very well designed, but no good content and few returning visitors.
Talents
• Insanity...
• I have a rather thorough knowledge of HTML and such.
• I'm an optimist and a pessimist at the same time.




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myOtaku.com: matt3402


Thursday, January 5, 2006

The Midnight Murder
I awaken in my parents' room. What am I doing here? I stand up and walk out of the corner I was apparently sleeping in. I step in something wet; I can feel it through my now saturated sock. I make a mad dash for the lightswitch. I stare at my parents; they're covered in blood. I utter a strangely tongued word and let out a loud, high-pitched scream.

I run downstairs, hoping that whoever the heck killed my parents is gone. I sprint into the den and head for the recliner. "Sh*t!" I curse out loud. The phone is gone. Instead of searching through the ransacked house, I run for the phone in my parents' room. I cast my gaze upon them sadly. Whoever did this is gonna pay! Big time!

I pluck the handset off the receiver. As I move the handset up to my ear, I hear nothing. No dial tone at all. I follow the cord from the receiver. It's been cut. I quickly take the handset and the remaining frayed cord with me to the den. I rip the cord out of the cordless's base and shove the RJ-11 plug into the receiver. Nothing. The phones are dead. I sit for a few minutes before I let out another long, loud, high-pitched scream. A scream of terror. A scream for help.

Suddenly, it dawns on me. The cell phone! I run for my dad's sock drawer. I push in the power button and shake it violently while it runs its startup sequence. I quickly punch three digits. 9-1-1. Send.

"911. What's your emergency?" I start quickly, "Help! My parents--" the phone beeps and dies. "F*CK YOU!" I scream a curse as I throw the old phone at the window. They'll never come. They can't tell I called from here. There's no GPS chip in that phone.

I sit and cry in the 3 A.M. darkness. I've been cut off. The phone beeps it's final beeps in the corner. I cry harder as I go downstairs to look at photo albums. Tears fall on the plastic page guards as I look back at the past 14 years in photos. My first steps. My first birthday. Their anniversaries. I slowly sift through the pile of scrapbooks. I finally reach the last book. It's small and leather-bound, covered in velvet. Engraved in the cover in gold lettering is a strange name. I can't take the pain anymore. I cast them aside and cry the hardest i've ever cried in my life. I'm alone. For good.

This story © Matt3402, 2006. All characters and events fictional in basis.
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