Fan Fiction ❯ Checkmate ❯ Epilogue ( Epilogue )

A darkened house sat on the corner of an unoccupied street. It looked as though no one was inside of the house. Even so, it seemed like some people had gone through the whole house and trashed it completely. Police had recently searched the house, and taken many of the objects inside of the house for evidence, and for other reasons.

Suddenly, the back door of the house was opened. The door had been left unlocked, possibly because the last person in the house didn't notice it. Or because someone had left it open on purpose. The person who opened the door stepped into the house, and almost tripped over a small table that had been left overturned near the door.

Feeling along the walls, the person quickly found a light switch, and the kitchen filled with light. The person was a small woman, age undeterminable, since she had no signs of age, and she was quite short. She may have been anywhere from twelve to forty.

The woman slunk into the kitchen like a cat, carefully stepping over all the objects that had been carelessly left on the floor by the people that had searched the house days before. She had a grin on her face as she made her way into the dining room.

"It was all too easy," She muttered to herself. "Much easier than I imagined." The woman had just escaped from the prison on the other side of town, and had gone home on foot. "Those fat guards' necks were ever so easy to cut." After getting herself out of her cell, the woman ran up the guard tower, and sliced both guards' necks before she left.

The woman had surprised the guards, and immediately lacerated the first guard's neck with a knife that she had hidden somewhere. The second guard, his mouth smeared with cream from some food he had just eaten, jumped on her from behind. She tossed him off easily, as though he was just a tiny mouse. Then, turning around with her arm straight in front of her, she sliced the guard's neck in half, causing his head to sag back, and the guard to die quickly. She then gouged her signature in the second guard's protruding stomach. "Checkmate."

Now that she was home, she could plan more murders, and still stay out of the grasp of the police, for she knew how stupid they were. Slinking easily across the dining room, she squatted down once she had reached a corner, and tore a board from the floor. Under it, she saw all of the knives that she had used to kill many people.

The woman gazed at the knives lovingly, as though they were her children, then pulled one out of its divot. The blade of the knife was incredibly long, and the wooden handle was stained with dark blood that had spattered on it from some "messy" murders.

The woman stood up once more, and was ready to walk across the room, when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, someone in the doorway. Spinning around, she looked into the face of someone she hadn't seen for years. Her father. Silence reigned over the two, until her father finally spoke.

"Sunny, it's me." He said to her softly. She glared at him, and looked away. "Do you remember me?"

"Do I remember you?" Sunny scoffed, then threw her head back, and laughed. "Do I remember you? Of course I do! The neglectful father that wanted me to stop mutilating my body. The man who ignored me until I began to cut myself. The man who wanted me to stop doing all the things that I loved to do." She glared at her father again.

"Sunny," Her father began, completely ignoring what she had just said, "I came all the way across the country to talk to you. About the things that you've been doing over the past few years. About why you were all over the news." He advanced on his daughter, until he was standing right next to her. Sunny refused to move from her spot, because she was near her knives. "Why did you do it, Sunny?"

"Do what?" Sunny retorted, clearly annoyed with the man next to her. "Kill one hundred people? I did it because I love death and blood. Because I hated you." The last sentence wasn't true, but Sunny didn't care. She wanted her father to know how she felt. She wanted him to hurt.

"Honey. That's not a good reason. Not a good reason. Not a good reason." Her father began chanted those last words, and Sunny wanted to scream. And she did. Then, she lunged at her father, her knife raised high, but was surprised to find herself spitted on stove poker that her father had pulled out of nowhere.

Sunny gasped, and slumped against her father. She looked as though she was ready to fall to the ground, but the poker, which her father was holding horizontally, kept her almost suspended in the air. Her father was still chanting softly to himself. He gazed down at his daughter, almost surprised to find her dying.

"You killed all those people, honey, so you have to die, too." He said to her. Sunny didn't have the strength to lift her head and glare at her father. "I killed your mother. She failed as a parent. Just like I did."

Sunny gave one last wheezing breath, and died, still in the upright position that her father was holding her in. Her father looked down at her corpse, and sighed to himself unhappily. Now that his daughter was dead, he really had no reason to live. At least, that's what he thought. His wife was dead, too.

Unfortunately, upon finding out that his daughter was a serial killer, he went insane. Nothing seemed real to him. When he killed his wife, he barely noticed what he was doing. Then, when he saw her dead body, he cried. He called a funeral director, and asked that a funeral be arranged. After he hung up the phone, he left.

He drove all the way across the country, still not knowing exactly what he was doing. He easily found his daughter's home, and broke in. He waited inside of it until he heard Sunny come home. And then he killed her.

Shaking his head, he dropped the poker and his daughter to the ground. "It's so unfortunate that June and Sunny died days apart." Then, reaching down and taking the knife out of his daughter's hand, he thought about various things before he plunged the knife into his stomach.

He hardly felt the pain that the knife was causing in his abdomen. He didn't even notice that he had begun to twist the knife around inside of him. Finally, when his legs would support him anymore, he noticed the knife.

"What a shame." He murmured to himself as he died.

The police came minutes later, called by neighbor who saw Sunny come home. They all vomited at the sight of blood and guts seeping into the floor. Finally, though, one of them was able to speak, and said, "Well, it looks like we won't have to worry about her any more." With a smile of satisfaction on his face, the officer strode over to the bodies, and shut their eyes.

A/N: It's finally finished. I'm not really happy that it's finished, though. I really liked writing this. But, it had to end.

Kind of an epilogue, I guess. I'm not good at writing epilogues. I do like the ending of this, though.

And about her name, when I told my mom about this (she didn't read the story, I just gave her a summary. She didn't really have much to say about it, really), she asked if the woman had a name, and I told her no. She then said that in the next story that I wrote, I should name the killer Sunny Sunshine, or something just as unfitting, so I just decided to use it for this.

Please review.