• "Ecstasy"

    The room was filled with the smell of rotten flesh and iron-like blood of the dead children who I roomed with for the past seven years. The smell both made me sick and nauseas, but it also made me feel like a killer. Speaking of killers, there was one still in my room. The room was dark and silent, but I could only see the shine from the crimson blood dripping from the killer's hands.
    Barehanded...That was the way he killed my fellow roommates. My only thoughts in this situation were to either commit suicide or kill this man with my bare hands. How is it for an eleven year old boy to react in this situation? I felt guilty for hiding in the hidden door in the closet without warning the others; and yet I was satisfied that I was alive.
    "Ecstasy," said the man as if talking to himself, "is the only reason for this bloodlust."
    He sat down in the bed front of the closet. This gave me a jolt and almost made me run screaming, which I did not.
    "How funny," he started, now as if talking directly to me, "there were seven children in this room, and yet there are eight beds. I know about the little door behind the closet, so I know there had to be at least one child in there."
    I could hear no other sound but the loud heartbeats I had suddenly developed. I couldn't even tell if I was breathing or not. The fear made me wet all over my face and body either from my tears or my cold sweat. This man's eyes beamed at me suddenly with color red, as if they were rubies themselves.
    "This room reminds me of how these orphanages used to treat all us children in my time. It reminds me of the four horsemen: Death, War, Fatigue, and Pestilence. Answer me, why did you hide and how are you to react to this unpredictable conflict?"
    This man just asked me the ultimate question that could be the turn point of my life. I could answer and hopefully live, or be silent and let him kill me so I could join my friends to their destinations. The sounds of police cars had come to my ears, distracting my concentration.
    "Give it time," said the man, "no need to hesitate."
    "Y-Your hands," I started out, "are you going to use them on me?"
    "Depends," his answer began, "the ecstasy of blood and flesh fills me up with the urge to kill and yet I feel as though as if I should pass this drug to another so that way I can finally be cured of these unaware devilish acts. So...will you carry my drug in your bloodstream?"
    The next thing I remember was opening the door from the closet and being grabbed by the neck and waking up in a hospital room. The nurse and doctor of the room had found me awakened and had told some reporters outside about my improvement. I wanted to speak and smile at all these people for giving me support, but all I could do was stare and frown for what seemed to be but a big blur. The television reporters rushed in the room asking various questions about the past incident. One question had struck me:
    "What do you feel after all this?"
    At that moment I had saw the blood and organs of my roommates pass through my mind and also the man's face with that devilish smile. I laughed hysterically as though as if I had become possessed by the devil himself. Then I stopped and stared at the shocked and confused crowd. I gave a huge, devilish smile and answered with a phrase that I'll never forget: