Chapter Text
The Only One
chapter One
Jim Moriarty, age 6
Jim was sprawled out on the floor, working furiously, with a single minded determination that most adults would find frightening.
He would only pause to scribble in his ratty little notebook, only to start again. He had several dolls in varying degrees of dismemberment
cast every which way around the floor. Along with his tools lined up neatly beside him. He had a box of matches, a pair of scissors,
a screwdriver, a hammer, long rusty nails and three different kinds knives.
When he finally finished ripping the last head off a doll
he scrambled to his feet, and slowly began spelling out a message with the brutally severed toy limbs. He frowned and stood back to reevaluate
his handy work.
He snapped his little fingers, " Oh! of Course! How silly of me. It needs a backround, Right Morlock?"
He told himself that Morlock, his stuffed bear, (he actually had know idea as to what it might have been, it was so worn, dirty and ratty) was a very smart,
and very quite fellow. Whom had to decided that he would only talk to "Smart" people. And since Jim was the only smart person he knew, naturally Morlock would only talk to him.
Jim rolled his eyes, at Morlock's stupid question. "Well of Course I'm going to add a darker backround, what, do you think I'm an idiot?"
He whirled around to give Morlock, whom had been sitting quite still by the bed, a withering glare.
"Don't answer that...Or better yet, please do."
His glare turned into an angelic smile as he waited for Morlock's response.
He could easily picture Morlock sighing, saying.
"Jim, You're not an idiot, you're very smart. Smarter then anyone else."
Jim nodded to himself, satisfied with the bears response."Good, and don't forget it,"
Jim rushed back to his task, he ran out the bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen, he rummaged around briefly,
until he found what he was looking for. a solid black trash bag. He grinned wildly, "Perfect."
He darted back up the stairs, and laid the trash bag on the soft,
creamy white carpet. He then placed all of the butchered toy parts on it, giggling to himself the whole time.
Jim had carefully gathered his notebook, supplies, tools and course Morlock. He carefully climbed out the window.
After all, it wouldn't do to get caught in someone else's house.
He walked carefully across the house roof,
onto the roofing over the garage, then onto the smaller shed roof and finally jumped onto the ground over the fence in his yard.
As he quickly made his way into his house, he could hear the familiar sound of an old stationwagon driving by,
and pulling into the driveway of the house from which he'd just left.
He laughed out loud, as he hurried into his house.
"We mustn't keep Little Sarah waiting!"
Jim singsonged on his way up to his room. As he entered, he promptly dropped everything on the floor.
( except for Morlock) and raced over to his Window.
He had a clear view into Sarah's room, that was now advanced with the use of binoculars. He waited with nervous energy to see her expression over his gift.
He straightened up, and became as still as a statue, not wanting to miss a thing, as soon as he saw Sarah walk into her bedroom.
Sarah looked at the ground, her eyes grew wide, and her face pale as Jim could clearly see her reading his message. "hello"
he had made a the "O" into a smiley face out of doll heads. His grinning face turned into a scowl, as he watched her sit down and begin to cry.
"No, no, NO! THAT WASN'T PART OF THE PLAN!
Jim stood up and threw his binoculars onto the ground.
"She wasn't supposed to do that, Morlock!"
He shouted at his little toy. He glared at it furiously.
"What. Happened?"
he demanded as he glared at his toy, which he was know clutching in a vice grip, held at arms length.
"She was supposed to scream, or run and tell her parents, or try to put all of those STUPID things back together,
Hell, she could have even laughed, for CHRIST'S SAKE. but she was NOT. Supposed to CRY."
He glared at Morlock.
Jim could just see the stupid little bear,
shivering in terror, and whimpering and whining pleas and excuses.
Jim regarded his toy coldly.
"Enough."
He imagined Morlock becoming still, and fear blooming in his beady, plastic little eyes.
"I know what you've been up too."
Jim sneered quietly. He Hurled Morlock into the bare hardwood floor beneath him and promptly
slammed his foot into Morlock's head. He slowly turned around and walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
chapter One
Jim Moriarty, age 6
Jim was sprawled out on the floor, working furiously, with a single minded determination that most adults would find frightening.
He would only pause to scribble in his ratty little notebook, only to start again. He had several dolls in varying degrees of dismemberment
cast every which way around the floor. Along with his tools lined up neatly beside him. He had a box of matches, a pair of scissors,
a screwdriver, a hammer, long rusty nails and three different kinds knives.
When he finally finished ripping the last head off a doll
he scrambled to his feet, and slowly began spelling out a message with the brutally severed toy limbs. He frowned and stood back to reevaluate
his handy work.
He snapped his little fingers, " Oh! of Course! How silly of me. It needs a backround, Right Morlock?"
He told himself that Morlock, his stuffed bear, (he actually had know idea as to what it might have been, it was so worn, dirty and ratty) was a very smart,
and very quite fellow. Whom had to decided that he would only talk to "Smart" people. And since Jim was the only smart person he knew, naturally Morlock would only talk to him.
Jim rolled his eyes, at Morlock's stupid question. "Well of Course I'm going to add a darker backround, what, do you think I'm an idiot?"
He whirled around to give Morlock, whom had been sitting quite still by the bed, a withering glare.
"Don't answer that...Or better yet, please do."
His glare turned into an angelic smile as he waited for Morlock's response.
He could easily picture Morlock sighing, saying.
"Jim, You're not an idiot, you're very smart. Smarter then anyone else."
Jim nodded to himself, satisfied with the bears response."Good, and don't forget it,"
Jim rushed back to his task, he ran out the bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen, he rummaged around briefly,
until he found what he was looking for. a solid black trash bag. He grinned wildly, "Perfect."
He darted back up the stairs, and laid the trash bag on the soft,
creamy white carpet. He then placed all of the butchered toy parts on it, giggling to himself the whole time.
Jim had carefully gathered his notebook, supplies, tools and course Morlock. He carefully climbed out the window.
After all, it wouldn't do to get caught in someone else's house.
He walked carefully across the house roof,
onto the roofing over the garage, then onto the smaller shed roof and finally jumped onto the ground over the fence in his yard.
As he quickly made his way into his house, he could hear the familiar sound of an old stationwagon driving by,
and pulling into the driveway of the house from which he'd just left.
He laughed out loud, as he hurried into his house.
"We mustn't keep Little Sarah waiting!"
Jim singsonged on his way up to his room. As he entered, he promptly dropped everything on the floor.
( except for Morlock) and raced over to his Window.
He had a clear view into Sarah's room, that was now advanced with the use of binoculars. He waited with nervous energy to see her expression over his gift.
He straightened up, and became as still as a statue, not wanting to miss a thing, as soon as he saw Sarah walk into her bedroom.
Sarah looked at the ground, her eyes grew wide, and her face pale as Jim could clearly see her reading his message. "hello"
he had made a the "O" into a smiley face out of doll heads. His grinning face turned into a scowl, as he watched her sit down and begin to cry.
"No, no, NO! THAT WASN'T PART OF THE PLAN!
Jim stood up and threw his binoculars onto the ground.
"She wasn't supposed to do that, Morlock!"
He shouted at his little toy. He glared at it furiously.
"What. Happened?"
he demanded as he glared at his toy, which he was know clutching in a vice grip, held at arms length.
"She was supposed to scream, or run and tell her parents, or try to put all of those STUPID things back together,
Hell, she could have even laughed, for CHRIST'S SAKE. but she was NOT. Supposed to CRY."
He glared at Morlock.
Jim could just see the stupid little bear,
shivering in terror, and whimpering and whining pleas and excuses.
Jim regarded his toy coldly.
"Enough."
He imagined Morlock becoming still, and fear blooming in his beady, plastic little eyes.
"I know what you've been up too."
Jim sneered quietly. He Hurled Morlock into the bare hardwood floor beneath him and promptly
slammed his foot into Morlock's head. He slowly turned around and walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Jim Moriarty, age 6
Jim was sprawled out on the floor, working furiously, with a single minded determination that most adults would find frightening.
He would only pause to scribble in his ratty little notebook, only to start again. He had several dolls in varying degrees of dismemberment
cast every which way around the floor. Along with his tools lined up neatly beside him. He had a box of matches, a pair of scissors, a screwdriver, a hammer, long rusty nails and three different kinds knives.
When he finally finished ripping the last head off a doll he scrambled to his feet, and slowly began spelling out a message with the brutally severed toy limbs. He frowned and stood back to reevaluate his handy work.
He snapped his little fingers, " Oh! of Course! How silly of me. It needs a backround, Right Morlock?"
He told himself that Morlock, his stuffed bear, (he actually had know idea as to what it might have been, it was so worn, dirty and ratty) was a very smart, and very quite fellow. Whom had to decided that he would only talk to "Smart" people. And since Jim was the only smart person he knew, naturally Morlock would only talk to him.
Jim rolled his eyes, at Morlock's stupid question. "Well of Course I'm going to add a darker backround, what, do you think I'm an idiot?"
He whirled around to give Morlock, whom had been sitting quite still by the bed, a withering glare.
"Don't answer that...Or better yet, please do."
His glare turned into an angelic smile as he waited for Morlock's response. He could easily picture Morlock sighing, saying.
"Jim, You're not an idiot, you're very smart. Smarter then anyone else."
Jim nodded to himself, satisfied with the bears response."Good, and don't forget it,"
Jim rushed back to his task, he ran out the bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen, he rummaged around briefly, until he found what he was looking for. a solid black trash bag. He grinned wildly, "Perfect."
He darted back up the stairs, and laid the trash bag on the soft, creamy white carpet. He then placed all of the butchered toy parts on it, giggling to himself the whole time.
Jim had carefully gathered his notebook, supplies, tools and course Morlock. He carefully climbed out the window. After all, it wouldn't do to get caught in someone else's house.
He walked carefully across the house roof,
onto the roofing over the garage, then onto the smaller shed roof and finally jumped onto the ground over the fence in his yard. As he quickly made his way into his house, he could hear the familiar sound of an old stationwagon driving by, and pulling into the driveway of the house from which he'd just left. He laughed out loud, as he hurried into his house.
"We mustn't keep Little Sarah waiting!"
Jim singsonged on his way up to his room. As he entered, he promptly dropped everything on the floor.
( except for Morlock) and raced over to his Window.
He had a clear view into Sarah's room, that was now advanced with the use of binoculars. He waited with nervous energy to see her expression over his gift. He straightened up, and became as still as a statue, not wanting to miss a thing, as soon as he saw Sarah walk into her bedroom.
Sarah looked at the ground, her eyes grew wide, and her face pale as Jim could clearly see her reading his message. "hello" he had made a the "O" into a smiley face out of doll heads. His grinning face turned into a scowl, as he watched her sit down and begin to cry.
"No, no, NO! THAT WASN'T PART OF THE PLAN!
Jim stood up and threw his binoculars onto the ground.
"She wasn't supposed to do that, Morlock!"
He shouted at his little toy. He glared at it furiously.
"What. Happened?"
he demanded as he glared at his toy, which he was know clutching in a vice grip, held at arms length.
"She was supposed to scream, or run and tell her parents, or try to put all of those STUPID things back together, Hell, she could have even laughed, for CHRIST'S SAKE. but she was NOT. Supposed to CRY."
He glared at Morlock.
Jim could just see the stupid little bear,
shivering in terror, and whimpering and whining pleas and excuses. Jim regarded his toy coldly.
"Enough."
He imagined Morlock becoming still, and fear blooming in his beady, plastic little eyes.
"I know what you've been up too."
Jim sneered quietly. He Hurled Morlock into the bare hardwood floor beneath him and promptly slammed his foot into Morlock's head. He slowly turned around and walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.