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Uncle Charlie - NAP

Rolling over, I wrapped my arms around her, she lay still, sleeping. The room was silent, the gentle humming of the boiler downstairs was all to be heard. Usually she’s awake before me, maybe she’s coming down with the flu. I squeezed her, leaning my head into her luscious brown hair. I take a deep breath as her beautiful scent drifted up my nose enhancing my senses.
My heart fluttered wildly, like the first time I met her, I remembered it like it was yesterday. Her deep brown eyes spotting me from Across the room. At an instant I fell in love.
It’s been 5 years. There was only one problem throughout our relationship, her husband.
She was married, she told me she was. But I knew one day, I’d end up with her. My pull to her was to strong, I could not live without her. I knew deep inside she couldn’t live without me.
I snapped myself back to reality, her smell getting stronger, the house still silent.
It was eerie, really, how quiet the house was, even though she has two children and her husband living here. 
Maybe they need feeding...
“Isabella, I’m going to check on the family, my love, then I will come sort you out.” I whispered, stroking her hair.
I noticed a clump of hair which fell to the floor. She must be feeling ill. I pocketed that hair, I’d just glue it back on like I did last time.
Her husband and I, we had a deal. He could live with us, he can pretend everything is OK to his children. On one condition, he cannot touch her, he cannot even look at her. I liked the children they called me uncle Charlie.
I leave our room, glancing back at my sleeping beauty. Her pale skin glistening in the light which shone from the hallway.
I hopped down the stairs, not able to contain my grin. What a perfect life I had. I had to hop, when the husband first found out what was going on, he hit my leg with a hammer, It was just a shattered kneecap, it would fix itself soon enough. But that was when our deal came along. I turned into the kitchen, ready to greet the family.
“Good morning all.” I would sing to them, as I sung every morning.
I looked, the children sat nicely up the table, their food untouched. Little Lucy had dark brown hair and light blue eyes, but I couldn’t see her eyes right now, she must be asleep too. Her older brother Kyle is a different story, he’s lolling his head back, he’s not in the right state of mind, see. His blue eyes looking milky. Maybe he needed to see his doctor, maybe he’s refused to take his seizure medication. I’d get my doctors kit later, maybe operate. Something needs to be done for this poor boy.
The dad, he still had lively moments where he thrashes in his chair and cries, but most of the time he is silent, I had to tie him to the chair to keep him from running away, the perks of being a police officer. A good set of handcuffs and trained to use a gun. I haven’t needed to use my gun yet, the family have been quite welcoming. The dad, his name is Jeff, his eyes are wide, his hands started to shake, I knew then a tantrum was going to erupt.
“My children, they’re rotting, in front of my eyes.” He cried.
He had been trying to tell me for two weeks that his children are dead, well he’s just wrong, I could hear them. He’d have to go, he’s scaring the kids, he’ll worry his wife.  And with a swift thrust of the kitchen knife, I punctured his throat, blood squirting freely from him as I pull the blade out with a twist, excitement pulsated through my body.
“You are finally free of the burden of your father, please call me daddy now.” I whisper to the kids. My new kids.
I cleared his body, cutting it up into small squares. Took me a few hours but by the end I had enough to freeze for the next week, and enough to make a stew. I will slow cook it, make it tender for my poorly love. Isabella would enjoy a nice stew.
I rushed upstairs, my arms ready to embrace my darling. I glanced into the bedroom and notice she’s still sleeping. Maybe a nice hand wash would do her good. I fill a bowl of soapy water and enter our room. The smell getting stronger, she definitely needs a wash.
Lifting her shirt over her head I started massaging her body gently with a soapy sponge, she must of liked it, she flopped her head back in which I was sure was happiness. I scrubbed gentle back and forward over her body. Then when I squeezed the soapy sponge into the water, I noticed a red hint.
My heart raced, of course, my Isabella is bleeding. Her skin peeling off her beautiful body, enough now that there was no skin left to cover her right rib. Maybe I had gotten to excited, pressed to hard. I’ll patch her up later, theres a possibility that she has just shred her skin, it is possible of course. 
I filled my bowl with stew, it taste tough, much like pork. I should have skinned him first.
I took the children out that night, left them at the door of their grandma’s. It’ll would be good for them. Little Lucy's body hung loosely in the car, as if she was asleep. She’s such a joker, Kyle was as stiff as a board though.
That evening I got home, ran straight upstairs to make love with my darling. That's when you knocked and handcuffed me for no real reason except for protecting my new family.

The crime scene, according to officer jones.
I handcuffed him straight away, I knew there was something wrong. The smell that startled my nose, causing my skin to crawl. The man seemed shocked, he didn’t understand what he had done.
I received a call earlier, an old woman. She screamed she did, her heart was shattered. She got a knock on the door at 6:17pm that evening, she opened it to find her grandchildren. A 5 year old girl and a 9 year old boy. Dead. When I arrived the first thing I noticed was the strong smell, then the decaying bodies of the little children who lay at my feet. The skin falling off their cheeks, the fingers completely missing. The maggots which slid out from the ears of the little girl, a haunting picture. Still I cannot get their glazed scared eyes out of my mind.
Of course straight away I went to the mothers home, the grandma was happy to give me the address. I blue lighted my way over there, to knock on the door on what seemed to be a happy family home.
The man who answered the door was what shocked me the most. Charlie, he worked alongside me but had called off sick about 3 weeks earlier. His tall, muscled physique blocking entry. I greeted him like an old friend, knowing the as soon as I had his hand in mine the cuffs must go on. And so I did it, handcuffed and forced him to the floor. The smell of the house getting stronger, a mixture of rotting eggs, rotting cabbage and human feces. Another police car pulled up, griping hold of who I thought was a gentle giant.
I ran around the house, gun in hand. The kitchen was a state, two chairs had urine and feces all over them, chains tied to the arms. Another chair lay on its back, bloodstained and broken. I followed a stronger more pungent smell up the stairs, looking for a survivor.
On the bed, completely exposed lay a lady, her rib cage exposed, flesh hung from her stomach, her one breast completely deflated with blood leaking from its side. The bed spoiled with red, brown and yellow. Her long brown hair hanging off her skull, exposing the bones. Her eyes closed, as if sleeping. But the lips were open, infested with maggots. My heart skipped a beat, as well as dropping into my stomach as I held in the vomit. With shaky hands I turned to leave, my mind scarred with what was left.
He wasn’t charged with murder. Instead he was sent to the loony bin, he won’t get out anytime soon.
What happened to him is a mystery to me, why did he snap, what made him kill. But when he’s let out, my fear is he will attack again. He still believes the family is alive, he talks about them a lot. It’s 15 years now, but I’ll tell you one thing, that smell has not left my mind.


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Who in the world am I?

Who am I?
It's a simple question, with an infinite amount of answers. So lets start with the basics;

I'm Nicole A Preedy, I write, I read, I kick ass.

I write a whole load of crazy crap, but I do have my fair share of stories to tell, as a fiction writer my ideas are always coming, and never leaving. As well, of course, the inspirational quote!
I write Thrillers, Romance and Horror. Though I can be quite funny!

Why do you care? Simple answer is YOU DON'T. 

Complex answer? You are bored, you want to read something, something that will make you laugh, cry, bite your lip in anticipation or think deep into the logic of a made up murderer.

So, you're asking, what the hell is next.

EXACTLY, Hell is next, a few stories, HORROR, stories, based on Ghosts, Demons, Monsters and even the Devil himself well, I like to call him Lucifer since were on a first name basis! As well as the lovable and heart wrenching love stories!

Keep your eyes open for the first STORY to be feasted up…