Post by BlanketyBlank on Feb 3, 2012 0:47:33 GMT -4
Cal Wooding woke up slowly, in a desperate and groggy state as he tried to piece together the room around him. The back of his head felt like it was about to cave in, blood still sapped from his head making a small pool of crimson syrup mess on the hard wood floor. Pain shook his vision and saying that his head hurt would be an understatement, it would be not only accurate but literal to say his head felt like it was struck with a twenty pound fire poker; it was. Lifting himself off the floor Cal looked around. He was still in the living room, the screen door that led outside onto the back porch was no further than eight feet but given his current situation it wasn’t an option. Cal rose to his knees and looked around. The house looked untouched minus the chair that was knocked over in the kitchen, where he had tripped prior to be struck over the head by his unseen assailant. Fear still clutched his heart. His wife and daughter were both asleep when he had woken up and made his way downstairs. Sleeplessness was a common theme for Cal and given he had woken up in middle of the night just a few hours from dawn, a few hours from work he was okay with spending his morning alone, whittling (a hobby of his) in the kitchen of his large home. Sadly for him, he wasn’t alone; after hearing a noise behind him and falling over the kitchen chair it was mere moments before the iron poker smashed into the back of his skull. The last thing he remembered was hearing the stairs lightly creek as someone made their way upstairs. Upstairs. His family.
Panic took over and his former weakness took way to adrenaline, he had to protect his family. He stood and ran for the stairs, forgetting about the fact not only was he bleeding from the head but that he was rushing towards the same assailant that had just viciously attacked him. As he made his way to the stairs, off white carpet covered steps creaked loudly underneath his feet. He noticed small stains of dripped blood going up the stairs coming from where he formerly laid. The attacker still had the weapon.
As he reached the top of the staircase his eyes tracked through the dark hallway following the blood drops to multiple rooms. On his left, his daughter Tristan’s room, on the right was both a bathroom and then next to that a closet. But at the end of the hallway, with the door slightly ajar were Cal and his wife’s room. The dark red drops of liquid were dripped all along the hallway, stopping first at his daughter room. He put his hand on her door handle and his breath froze in his throat as he pushed the door open slowly.
Inside the dark room he couldn’t immediately notice anything to alarming. Her arrays of stuffed animals were all together neatly on her bed. The blood drops stopped in her doorway and nothing in the room seemed to be like the horror scene downstairs. As he stepped into the room he realized he had been tracking blood up the stairs, the blood from his head. His eyes went from the foot print to his daughters’ bed; it was empty. His cautions left him as he tore the door open further, no hesitation this time. He looked in her closet, behind her desk, in the corner. Nothing. Nothing until he looked underneath the girl’s bed. As he laid down on the floor he heard in the hallway behind him the sounds of footsteps run by the door and towards his own room. He rolled back over onto his back and leaned forward trying to quickly chase after the noise, only to smack his skull on the bottom of the metal bed frame. After wincing in pain and a few words of anger he slid out from under the bed and made his way to the hallway.
Turning towards his room he could see the doorway to his room was now fully open. He questioned if maybe he should get a weapon, maybe call the police first? He was scared, but his family- A scream came from the room. The high pitch scream of his daughter Tristan. He raced forward, all concern for self out the window. As he made it through the doorway he wished he had been a bit more cautious. The same fire poker that had smacked the back of his head in now had slammed across his shin breaking his left leg as he ran into the room. He sprawled forward and fell at the foot of his bed. There had been no noise except for the smashing and cracking of his leg bone and the fall itself. Cal landed hard, his slim 5’11 frame was already banged up, but this kind of damage and pain was unreal to him. He moaned and groaned as he tried to pull himself up, as he reached up to pull on the bed, hoping to use it to lift his now broken body up. Shockingly he grabbed a foot instead, a cold, pale skinned, motionless foot. Cal’s eyes widened as he realized what he had just touched. The more than likely lifeless body of his wife laid in bed just a few feet above him, lost in a sleep he couldn’t wake her from. The situation was even worse than he had imagined. His family wasn’t being robbed, they were being murdered.
He rolled over and tried to get a look at where his attacker was, but saw nothing. The hallway was empty and the fire poker lay in the doorway. As he brought himself to one knee his eyes scanned the room and to his relief Cal could see his daughter in the corner and no one else in the room. She was okay. Outside his ears could hear the sirens of police cars as they pulled up the house. He didn’t know where the killer was but he felt relief. He made his way to Tristan. Her eyes were filled with terror and she was covered in blood. In her hand a small kitchen knife. Cal took it from her and hugged the girl to his chest. He turned and looked at his wife Rose. Her long blonde hair was a mess, the look of shock and fear still struck her motionless dead face. Three small stab wounds to the chest were visible. Cal looked at his wife’s corpse for another moment, a realization setting in. Three small stab wounds were visible. He looked at the knife in his hands, the one he had taken from his daughter. In his head he tried to dismiss the thought he had, but things started adding up. When he was struck in the kitchen, he was on the ground. The last thing he heard was the stairs very lightly creak as his attacker made their way up them, but when he walked up them they practically screamed in comparison. Then when he was in his daughters spotless room he heard someone softly run through the hallway behind him. He was also struck in the shins when he ran into the room. If the killer was taller they could have easily hit him higher. Cal raised the knife so he could look at it in the light; it was the pocketknife he had used to whittle in the kitchen.
Tristan smiled up at him just a moment before letting out another one of those gut wrenching screams, just like the one she had used to lure him into the room. This time silence didn’t follow it though, instead two loud explosions filled the air as Cal felt like his back had just been ripped open. In the doorway behind him a police officer had fired two 9mm rounds into Cal Wooding’s back. It wasn’t his fault he killed an innocent man, he didn’t know any better. The scene he walked in on was a man holding a knife above a child, and next to that man lay a dead woman wife multiple stab wounds. Cal’s body hit the floor next to the bed. It didn’t take long for him to die, a few moments. In his head he replayed the last few minutes over in his head and he questioned if Rose had just listened to him a few weeks ago would either of them be alive right now. For just a few weeks ago, Rose Wooding and her husband Cal had decided that they wanted to adopt a child. Rose couldn’t have children but had always wanted one. So the best option was adoption, but at the same time she felt a great need to help those in need. So the Wooding couple decided it would be best to adopt from home for troubled children. There are questions now, as the investigation of the murder of Rose Wooding continues if Tristan had anything to do with it. After all it is rather odd that for a girl of just 13 she has been involved with three different murder-suicide cases involving her adoptive parents. Luckily for Tristan the police officer that responded to her call for help testified that he saw her adoptive father holding the knife overhead like he was going to attack the girl. So, much like the other murder cases Tristan has had questionable involvement in, she gets off. Scott free.
Panic took over and his former weakness took way to adrenaline, he had to protect his family. He stood and ran for the stairs, forgetting about the fact not only was he bleeding from the head but that he was rushing towards the same assailant that had just viciously attacked him. As he made his way to the stairs, off white carpet covered steps creaked loudly underneath his feet. He noticed small stains of dripped blood going up the stairs coming from where he formerly laid. The attacker still had the weapon.
As he reached the top of the staircase his eyes tracked through the dark hallway following the blood drops to multiple rooms. On his left, his daughter Tristan’s room, on the right was both a bathroom and then next to that a closet. But at the end of the hallway, with the door slightly ajar were Cal and his wife’s room. The dark red drops of liquid were dripped all along the hallway, stopping first at his daughter room. He put his hand on her door handle and his breath froze in his throat as he pushed the door open slowly.
Inside the dark room he couldn’t immediately notice anything to alarming. Her arrays of stuffed animals were all together neatly on her bed. The blood drops stopped in her doorway and nothing in the room seemed to be like the horror scene downstairs. As he stepped into the room he realized he had been tracking blood up the stairs, the blood from his head. His eyes went from the foot print to his daughters’ bed; it was empty. His cautions left him as he tore the door open further, no hesitation this time. He looked in her closet, behind her desk, in the corner. Nothing. Nothing until he looked underneath the girl’s bed. As he laid down on the floor he heard in the hallway behind him the sounds of footsteps run by the door and towards his own room. He rolled back over onto his back and leaned forward trying to quickly chase after the noise, only to smack his skull on the bottom of the metal bed frame. After wincing in pain and a few words of anger he slid out from under the bed and made his way to the hallway.
Turning towards his room he could see the doorway to his room was now fully open. He questioned if maybe he should get a weapon, maybe call the police first? He was scared, but his family- A scream came from the room. The high pitch scream of his daughter Tristan. He raced forward, all concern for self out the window. As he made it through the doorway he wished he had been a bit more cautious. The same fire poker that had smacked the back of his head in now had slammed across his shin breaking his left leg as he ran into the room. He sprawled forward and fell at the foot of his bed. There had been no noise except for the smashing and cracking of his leg bone and the fall itself. Cal landed hard, his slim 5’11 frame was already banged up, but this kind of damage and pain was unreal to him. He moaned and groaned as he tried to pull himself up, as he reached up to pull on the bed, hoping to use it to lift his now broken body up. Shockingly he grabbed a foot instead, a cold, pale skinned, motionless foot. Cal’s eyes widened as he realized what he had just touched. The more than likely lifeless body of his wife laid in bed just a few feet above him, lost in a sleep he couldn’t wake her from. The situation was even worse than he had imagined. His family wasn’t being robbed, they were being murdered.
He rolled over and tried to get a look at where his attacker was, but saw nothing. The hallway was empty and the fire poker lay in the doorway. As he brought himself to one knee his eyes scanned the room and to his relief Cal could see his daughter in the corner and no one else in the room. She was okay. Outside his ears could hear the sirens of police cars as they pulled up the house. He didn’t know where the killer was but he felt relief. He made his way to Tristan. Her eyes were filled with terror and she was covered in blood. In her hand a small kitchen knife. Cal took it from her and hugged the girl to his chest. He turned and looked at his wife Rose. Her long blonde hair was a mess, the look of shock and fear still struck her motionless dead face. Three small stab wounds to the chest were visible. Cal looked at his wife’s corpse for another moment, a realization setting in. Three small stab wounds were visible. He looked at the knife in his hands, the one he had taken from his daughter. In his head he tried to dismiss the thought he had, but things started adding up. When he was struck in the kitchen, he was on the ground. The last thing he heard was the stairs very lightly creak as his attacker made their way up them, but when he walked up them they practically screamed in comparison. Then when he was in his daughters spotless room he heard someone softly run through the hallway behind him. He was also struck in the shins when he ran into the room. If the killer was taller they could have easily hit him higher. Cal raised the knife so he could look at it in the light; it was the pocketknife he had used to whittle in the kitchen.
Tristan smiled up at him just a moment before letting out another one of those gut wrenching screams, just like the one she had used to lure him into the room. This time silence didn’t follow it though, instead two loud explosions filled the air as Cal felt like his back had just been ripped open. In the doorway behind him a police officer had fired two 9mm rounds into Cal Wooding’s back. It wasn’t his fault he killed an innocent man, he didn’t know any better. The scene he walked in on was a man holding a knife above a child, and next to that man lay a dead woman wife multiple stab wounds. Cal’s body hit the floor next to the bed. It didn’t take long for him to die, a few moments. In his head he replayed the last few minutes over in his head and he questioned if Rose had just listened to him a few weeks ago would either of them be alive right now. For just a few weeks ago, Rose Wooding and her husband Cal had decided that they wanted to adopt a child. Rose couldn’t have children but had always wanted one. So the best option was adoption, but at the same time she felt a great need to help those in need. So the Wooding couple decided it would be best to adopt from home for troubled children. There are questions now, as the investigation of the murder of Rose Wooding continues if Tristan had anything to do with it. After all it is rather odd that for a girl of just 13 she has been involved with three different murder-suicide cases involving her adoptive parents. Luckily for Tristan the police officer that responded to her call for help testified that he saw her adoptive father holding the knife overhead like he was going to attack the girl. So, much like the other murder cases Tristan has had questionable involvement in, she gets off. Scott free.
