Mr. Excitement

I got the name 'Mr. Excitement' from an earlier student of my 8th Grade English Teacher Mrs. Johnson.

                He looked down at the blood, confused. Every emotion known to him was flowing through his mind, unable to identify them. He looked around. He was in the master bedroom of a random house. Cottage style, with wooden beams on the sides, and splashed carefully across the wall, blood. He couldn’t figure it out. He slowly backed away from the room, not taking his eyes off the two bodies that lay lifeless before him on the bed.

“No,” he whispered to no audience. He raced towards the bathroom down the hall and looked in the mirror. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a defined face. Only problem is that he had blood on his left cheek. He stared at the blood for a while, but then tried to think. He tried to remember the simple things about him.  His parents, his friends, his memories, and even his name. Everything was forgotten. But instead of his birth name, something came to him.

Mr. Excitement.

                Grabbing  the red shade of lipstick laying on the counter before him, he signed his name on the mirror.

With Love, Mr. Excitement.

And without another word, Mr. Excitement left the building.

Author's Note

Mr. Excitement.
Huh, interesting murderer title.
Either way, I hope you enjoyed this.
And if not, tell me. But tell me why.
Thanks.

Reviews

[Scyrus123]

I don't understand it at all... :))

[...]

Strange. Short story about the moment after one crosses the line, I think. Interesting poem and title.