“Ring around the rosy, pocketful of posy. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,” A little boy chimed in his high pitched voice. His feet skipped and his arms waved by his sides, a red knife in his hand. He dropped the knife by the bathroom sink and began to hum as he washed his hands. He carefully dried his hands on the towel, it was blue with little, fluffy bunnies all over it. That same little boy that can sing and skip through this house took a knife to Joana’s throat. And he sees nothing wrong with his violent actions.

Joana was related to West, blood-related, she was his mother. Of course, his father was nowhere to be found for he too had been killed by his son. The little boy knew he could not win with brute force so he set a deadly trap in the forest that would bury the father itself after he died. Many people notice Joana and her husband of 13 years are gone but, nobody could ever guess it was murder done by their own son. The nine year old genius boy, West, left the house to find some more people he wanted to have some fun.

I want to play with more people, the little boy thought as an angelic smile lit up his face. He walked to his neighbor’s house and walked inside. His neighbors where Mr. and Mrs. Tumble, they were both chubby people with brown eyes that lit up and any little thing. These optimistic people helped out whenever they could and never got anything in return, which is why they live in a mobile home. “Mommy?” West asked, knowing full well that his mother is not here but he needs some reason to come into their house and play another game. A crashing noise comes from the kitchen, “West? Is that you out there? Come on is here!” Mrs. Tumble called out, not knowing the fate that could await her if she kept the boy here.

West walked into the kitchen and started to plan how he would win this game. Mrs. Tumble was cooking soup, chicken soup for her sick husband. Mr. Tumble was taking a nap in his room, not even knowing his life would end sooner than later. West was sitting on the counter, over the drawer with the knives and under the cabinet with soup cans. He smiled and pulled out the drawer between his feet, “Wow, this is really big!” West admired loudly, making sure Mrs. Tumble saw him.

“Hey! Young children shouldn’t mess with knives, it is very dangerous,” Mrs. Tumble said. West took the knife and plunged it into Mrs. Tumble’s stomach; thus, causing her to shriek in pain. Mr. Tumble wobbled from his bedroom and gaped at the scene he saw. “Game over,” West sung in Mrs. Tumble’s ear. He twisted the knife causing her to scream again. Mr. Tumble tried to jump on West, but his sickness gave him dizziness and he collapsed. A giggle sounded as West tipped over the pot of boiling stew, “Oops.” The boiling water embraced the plump woman and she let out a scream that could have sent the coldest heart into a fit of tears.

West only smiled as he grabbed the man on the floor and pulled his tie. Mr. Tumble choked and scratched at West’s hands. “Ouchie,” West exclaimed and let go of the tie. “Fine,” he lifted up a cloth from the table and dipped it in the fire dropping it on Mr. Tumble, “fire power-up.” West made sure to set another fire farther back from Mr. Tumble, closer to the can of gasoline he left here last week. He had hidden it for if he needed it and now was the time. He carefully walked out the door and just as his tiny tennis shoes touched the asphalt road the house exploded. West giggled and said, “Level up.”