Crazy Kimono Doll Assault

((Author's Notes: This was written for a drama class believe it or not. Weak, reeking of my Parisian days that I spent looking for a muse. Even though I never really found her.

Finished: Before 2006))

Crazy Kimono Doll Assault

Kibum stepped outside of the store, smiling in his usually stupid way. In his hand he held what he thought was a good bargain. Clutched in his hands was the Kimono Doll of the mythical daimyo that was Lord Baka's Lieutenant, or so was thought. Arriving home he slipped of his shoes, and walked into his living room. The cupboards in the room were full of Kimono Dolls, exactly like the one Kibum has just bought. As in respect for the dolls, he moved at an incredibly slow pace. He walked to where an empty cupboard stood. With almost childlike patience, he unwrapped the wrappings and placed the doll on one of the shelves. He spruced up the collar, straightened the position and arranged minor problems. He could never have expected it was cursed.

---
Night has fallen and its veil suited the doll perfectly. He got up from his standing position, picked up his stand and broke open the cupboard window. Hearing Kibum finish taking a shower, he used the shadows to mask his intentions.
Kibum feet almost lit on fire as he felt broken glass biting into his soles. He looked down, his feet were bleeding from minor cuts. He cursed in his native language and picks up the glass and tends to his feet. He really didn't see the missing doll. He was about to when suddenly, a large banging of metal came from the kitchen. He froze completely, thought forming like condensation in his mind. Was it a burglar? Did he neatly and efficiently arrange his woks and pots? Was it just the wind? There was only one way he could find out.
He found what he was looking for. Sharp metal were the bane of his tormentors. He would be free. Upon hearing Kibum's steps, his metamorphosis took place. He was no longer a Kimono Doll, but the spirit of a hanged man.
To his surpise and horror, he found a man standing there. In his hand, he held a knife, his head was tilted to one side as if his neck was broken, hanged. His nose was bloody, his skin, grey, and lifeless, his skin, cold as ice. If there was anything to understand from this was probably pity, but Kibum had other thoughts. Thoughts of death precluded everything else, and Kibum started to scream his head off like a girl.
The pathetic mortal continued to scream. The scream however, became quite loud, annoying and irritating. To silence the mortal, he held his knife out high. He plunged it into Kibum's shoulder. Kibum then stopped screaming, only to be replaced by really loud expletives. However, he had not expected this as he pulled the knife out. Again and again, he brought his knife down of his victim.
Feeling his life ebb away, Kibum looked up once more only to see torn jeans. Whatever he regretted, he kept to himself and in a silent prayer, his eyes closed one last time, forever.
---
Lying on the floor, blood pouring from various wounds, and his eyes closed, Kibum laid on his kitchen floor. The morning came, but not without a price. The doll was sitting, in front of his victim's head, his owner, his savior.