Maniacal Laughter

Maniacal Laughter is a scary story written by a user on this website named dovelet2011.

School had just ended and I was walking in the bitter cold, because my mom refused to pick me up.

“You’re such a nuisance, Abigail,” she’d snapped, a disgusted look on her tired, worn face. “Walk to the subway. God gave you legs for a reason, you lazy pest.”

She’d been like that ever since my dad died in a tragic office fire. Now, every day she did nothing but puff her cigarettes and drown her worries in alcohol.

I started towards the subway station reluctantly, the cold air chilling my entire body. I shivered and continued walking. The problem with walking to the subway was that it ws so far away. It took about an hour to walk there, and a half hour to walk home from there. If my mom just came to pick me up, I would be home doing my work in a half hour.

After the subway finished at my stop, I trudged home, irritated that I could barely feel my hands. I was almost sure I was going to get hypothermia. On the way to my house I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a comforting blast of warmth, and purchased a tall coffee to regain the feeling in my hands. I paid with a crumpled five-dollar bill that I earned from shoveling my neighbor’s front yard.

I returned home at a bit past 4:30, and was greeted with my pleasant mother knocking my drink out of my hands and letting it spill all over my only pair of boots.

“Where have you been?” Her cold blue eyes bored into me, and I shifted uncomfortably.
“I was walking home, since you refused to pick me up.”
“So you’re placing the blame on me?” Her face twisted into an angry expression, and I shrunk back in fear.
“No, of course not,” I mumbled. “It’s just a long walk to the subway.”
I hurried behind her into my room and slammed the door before she could do anything else. I immediately locked it and began scribbling in my diary, which was really the only thing I had to do.
My mom didn’t own a TV, a computer, or anything. The only contact with the outside world I had was from a pay-by-the-minute cell phone that I bought at a local drug store when my mom was passed out drunk.
Even with that, all I could do was text my only friend, Ashli, and play boring games like Tetris and Cat Trap.
I opened a new text and started typing.
ASH, MEET ME @ THE DINER IN AN HOUR. WE’LL EAT DINNER TOGETHER AND THEN TAKE A WALK. I’M IN A BAD MOOD.
Instantly, she replied.
SURE. DID UR MOM BEAT U AGAIN?
NO. BUT I’M SURE SHE’S GOING TO. C U SOON.

Usually for dinner, I either went out and bought it at a fast food restaurant, or go to the diner with Ashli. She lived with a full family who spoiled her and bought her everything she liked, but we still were best friends. Sometimes I went over to her house, and once she went over to mine when my mom went out to Vegas for a week. She slept over.
After a while, I left my room. My mom was passed out cold on the couch, an empty bottle in her lap. I snuck out the front door and made sure I had enough money for the diner. I had ten dollars from my weekend job, which is scooping ice cream at Baskin Robbins.
It was creepy walking in the city streets at night, but I knew soon I would be having a delicious meal with my best friend. I turned to walk through the alley, my shortcut, when suddenly there was no light at all.
Simply darkness. I couldnt see anything at all. I looked up at the sky, and the moon had disappeared. I opened my phone to cast a small trail of light, but it wasn’t much use. I stumbled, confused, through the darkened alleyway, hoping somehow there would be light again.
Suddenly I heard something.
Nothing more than a simple breeze, quiet and steady. I couldn’t make out what it was. I stopped walking and listened again.
Kill her.
“What?” I called out, my voice echoing against the walls.
Kill her. She deserves to die.
“Who’s there?” My heart pounding against my chest. If anyone attacked, I wouldnt know where to turn or what to do. Fear gripped my stomach and I turned to run, but something held me back.
You must kill her. It is the only way.
“Stop it,” I screamed. My voice echoed yet again. I broke out in a run, not sure where I was going.
Kill your mother before she kills you.
I stopped dead. My skin turned ice cold, and I could feel my face turn the color of the snow that was caked in my boots. I took a deep breath and gathered the courage to speak despite my shaking voice. “Who said that?”
The shadow people. Abigail, we are your friends. We know what is best for you. You must kill her. Tonight. While she is drunk. Take a knife to her heart and escape. Come to us. We shall guide you to happiness.
We know what you want, Abigail.
You want a family. You want friends. You want a television, a nice computer, a good cell phone. You want a pretty house, you want to be treated right. You want happiness.
We can give that to you.
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. The light had returned. “I don’t understand…” I muttered, my voice trailing off. How did these mysterious people know so much about me?
The most unsettling part was that they were telling me to kill my own mother. I began walking to the other side of the alley.
A breeze blasted by, and I could make out the words, simple and clear, Kill her.
Suddenly I was enraged. My mother was an evil being. She was horrible. She deprived me of everything a teenage girl needed. I kicked the rundown brick wall and screamed. Then I formed a plan in my head.
I pulled out my phone and composed a text to Ashli. I HAVE OTHER PLANS. WILL NOT B ABLE 2 MEET U. MAYBE TOMORROW.
I turned on my heel and dashed home, my mind racing with thoughts. My fingers tingled in anticipation, my heart raced. The wind in my hair was invigorating. Everything seemed to be encouraging me to do what I was about to do.
I arrived home in just five minutes, and burst through the door. There was silence. I walked into the scrappy living room, which consisted of a horrible couch that my mom found outside a house one day with a sign that read “FOR FREE”.
I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a sharp knife, and plunged it into my drunk mother’s chest, smiling meniacally. Not a sound came from her. She was dead.
I cheered with joy. I jumped up. My worries were gone. The shadow people would give me all my hopes and dreams. I would be happy again.
I ran back to the alleyway, little shrieks of glee escaping from my throat. I entered, and waited for the voices. Nothing came.
“Shadow people! I did as you asked! I killed her! I killed my mom! Now give me what you promised.”
I heard something. I kept still. At first it was quiet. But it grew louder and louder. Laughing. Evil, mean, cold laughter. Laughing at me. Laughing at my foolishness. I dropped to my knees. I comitted a heineous crime for these shadow people. People who I couldn’t even see. I should have known.
Foolish child. You should have known not to trust us shadow people.
More laughing. I let out a scream.
When I woke up, I was sitting in a white room. I looked down, and I was clothed in soft white cotton. I wore a straightjacket, and I was alone.
“Hello?”
Nothing. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I struggled to escape from the jacket, but I could not.
Then it came again.
Darkness.
And the laughter.
The sickening maniacal laughter.