The Count

Genevieve slowly crept up the winding staircase that was as dark as death. The grandfather clock struck 12, dong...dong...dong... Genevieve paused at the noise and then quietly continued to climb the staircase, dong...dong...dong... she reached the top of the stairway and proceeded forward. As she cautiously edged along the hallway her palms began to sweat and she dropped the knife. Genevieve froze, listening for any movement on the floor below her and then bent down to retrieve the knife. Clutching it with her shaking hands, she continued to inch along the wall until she reached the grand doors at the end of the hallway. She put her ear to the cold wooden door and heard the sound of heavy breathing coming from within. She gathered her courage and slowly reached her trembling hand towards the door handle. She clasped the handle and very quietly opened the door, inch by inch until she saw the Count lying on his bed, illuminated in the moonlight. Closing the door behind her she surveyed the room and crept closer to the bed. Her palms began to sweat more profusely and she gripped the knife even tighter. Genevieve entered the moonlight and crept closer and closer to bed, keeping her eye on the Count. As she came in view of the Count's face she stopped dead in her tracks and stared in fright. The Count was looking directly at her. The seconds passed slowly and Genevieve noticed that although the Count's eyes were wide open he had not moved, so she proceeded closer. The Count's eyes followed her movements as she rounded the end of the bed and came to the his side. His eyes rested on the knife, clutched tightly in Genevieve's hand, then traveled up to her eyes where they stared intently. She shook with fear but yet gripped the knife tighter as she raised it over his chest. The Count's eyes followed the quivering knife blade up into the air but once again turned back to Genevieve's eyes, seeming to penetrate her soul. Genevieve grasped the knife tight with both hands and raised in higher above his chest. She looked at the knife's destination, ready to bring it down but suddenly noticed something strange. She leaned in closer to the Count's chest and peered at his crimson colored robe. A nearly unnoticeable pool of scarlet blood was forming on his chest. She quickly glanced up to his eyes and with a start, realized they were still watching her. She gasped and stood back from the bed, her heart beating madly as her eyes darted around the room. She heard the key turn in its lock and and saw a shadow pass through the moon's beam. With horror Genevieve suddenly realized the truth. The deed had already been done. The Count was dead and she had no escape.

isnt life just bigger than everything? why waste time on nothing. it isnt worth it and no one can tell me it is.

Save the Chickens Campaign!!

I am now formally launching the Save the Chickens campaign because I think that the poor birds should no longer be eaten. This enactment is a direct consequence of far too many chickens being eaten in the Sanford household. I am extremely sick of eating those horrid birds and I reason that the only way to prevent my family from eating them is to start the STC campaign against the consuming of chickens.... Your support is immensely appreciated. Thankyou.


SAVE THE CHICKENS!!!