Letty Sharp is a 19-year-old teen fiction writer. To date, she has written more than 40 books/stories on Wattpad.
Books by Robert Muchamore are her absolute favourite and he has been her biggest inspiration for creativity.
Letty has a love of music especially metal, her favourite band being Metallica. Her stories hide dark secrets and twists and turns, a must read for any reader with an open mind and a love of the unknown.
Her writing is highly descriptive as she paints a picture in the readers mind with stories that keep you guessing to the very end.
17-year-old Calvin Brooder sat at his desk, editing footage he filmed the night previous. He turned some of the brightness up on one scene and he smiled, sat back, and admired his work. You might think he was reviewing his newest YouTube video or a funny, goofy skit he just made with his friends. No. What Calvin filmed would make anyone who had emotions feel sick. He filmed violent crimes and posted them on the dark web. He watched the violent stabbing and the blood squirt. When he was happy with the footage, he closed his editing software down and opened Google in case his mother who didn’t know the meaning of privacy walked into his room. Calvin had short, brown hair, brown eyes, clean shaven, was of average build and stood at 5’8. He sighed and spun around in his office chair, trying to think where he’d scout out tonight. He told his parents he was doing photography, but he was starting to get paranoid that his mom, Jennifer and his dad, Martin, were catching on he wasn’t just doing, ‘photography.’
As if scripted, Jennifer called for her kids to come out of crypts and down to the kitchen for their dinner. Calvin walked out of his room and turned the light off, still trying to think of where he could film tonight. His family lived in a fairly safe area, but like every town or city, if you look closer, you see a different picture. He had staked out for two hours last night in the ‘Sewers,’ as people called it. The Sewers was the rotten core of his town, where the criminals and drug-addicts hung out. Calvin nearly tripped on the last step as his mind was too engrossed in his planning for tonight. He reached the table first, eager to finish his dinner as fast as he could and then get back out and film some more action. The stabbing was just one of three crimes Calvin had filmed, the other two being a brutal beating of a drug-addict by the dealer and a robbing at gunpoint. As Martin cut into the chicken and serving it to his son, Calvin thought of the blood squirting on his video and shivered.
“You okay, Cal?” Martin asked as he put the slice of chicken on his son’s plate and gave it to him.
Calvin nodded and tried to shake the image out of his head. He picked up his knife and fork and began eating his food. His sister, Faye, came down, eyes glued to her phone and sat down beside Jennifer, who had long, brown hair and lip fillers.
“So, how was school?” Martin asked, trying to make conversation as he cut more chicken for his daughter while his son ate his, fast.
Calvin shrugged. “It was fine I guess, nothing too interesting happened”. Martin raised one of his bushy, ginger, eyebrows to go with his short, ginger hair, long, ginger beard, and blues, and nodded.
“I see,” he said, “Well, I hope tomorrow is a bit more educational for you.”
Faye tossed her blonde hair out of her blue eyes and sighed, slamming her phone on the table, screen down.
“I am not even going to ask,” Calvin said, laughing, shoving the last of his chicken into his mouth and scooping up the rest of his potato’s he shoved them in too. He drank his glass of water, excused himself, put his dishes in the dishwasher and before anyone could say anything, he grabbed his camera in his room, got his shoes on and was out the door. Martin shook his head and sighed. Jennifer put her glass of white wine on the table and looked at her husband.
“You should go and follow him,” Faye said as an off-handed comment, texting her friend about some party.
Jennifer looked at Martin once again through her blue eyes and nodded, swallowing a mouthful of Vouvray white wine. “I agree,” she said, “Martin, go and follow him.”
He nodded. He abandoned his position cutting the roast chicken, put the carving knife back safely into the knife block, and marched out of the house. He saw the shadow of Calvin disappear down the road. Martin was a bit overweight, but he was ready for the challenge. He followed Calvin into the darkness.
Calvin exhaled and watched his breath disappear into the atmosphere. He shivered as he walked down the darkening streets. He began filming these videos, well because he liked doing it, and posted them, but soon found people were offering him money for the content. Calvin had always loved the more extreme movies like, ‘A Serbian Film,’ and ‘Cannibal Holocaust.’ He thought movies such as, ‘Scream,’ and ‘A Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ were too tame. Calvin thought he was too creative and wanted to put his real skills to use. Calvin was saving for college for film studies as he wanted to make deeply dark and disturbing movies like the ones he craved, but couldn’t find any traditional work, so he tried something different. Soon enough he learned there were sick and twisted people out there who wanted to watch people get messed up. His first video, a woman robbed at gunpoint, and being knee-capped by three drug-crazed, girls not much older than himself, gained him over a thousand dollars. In the early days he was disturbed by the crimes he witnessed. Sometimes he had thrown his guts up with some of the blood and gore. Some nights he really wanted to tell the police about some of them, Calvin just couldn’t bring himself to stop; he had become addicted to the money and even more, the violence and craved more and more. He gazed down the graffiti filled alleyway that would bring him to the ‘Sewers,’ but tonight, Calvin decided to pass. He needed to take risks with his filming and this would be the night Calvin would do it. He walked past the alleyway and continued another seven hundred metres to another alleyway. Calvin heard a bottle break. He whipped around to see if anyone was following. The only thing in his sight was a streetlight. Calvin shook his head and walked down the alley. ‘Wendell Way,’ the mayor named it, after the kid he filmed who was killed just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The place was littered with broken glass, needles, and more gang graffiti. He stepped over a homeless man sleeping on some cardboard.
Calvin got his camera out, ready to film. Anything could happen. The setting for tonight’s action was an empty alleyway between a burnt-out, abandoned warehouse which was rumoured to host some sort of fight-club, and an 8-storey apartment complex which everyone knew was inhabited by psycho-killers, drug-addicts, and prostitutes. He spotted what seemed like a fistfight break out between drunk people and began to film them. The fight wasn’t very interesting – the fighters were both drunk. He stayed in the darkness and looked for more violence. He watched the two drunks walk away from each other, but his eyes stayed on the taller one, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. The shadow kept his attention and then he saw another person enter the scene. The new player was chunkier and a good ten centimetres taller than the figure smoking the cigarette. Calvin focused the camera on them. He watched the two separate, the thinner man keeling over to throw up as he had been hit int the gut, the chunkier man thinking out his next move. He saw the chunkier man grab the smoker by his waist and body slam him. A vicious fight broke out with the two giving it their all like prime-time boxers. Calvin smiled at the sight and sound of fists connecting with flesh filled the atmosphere. He crept closer, getting a better angle. The bigger man was beating the thinner one up with a dustbin which drove him to the ground. Calvin was watching drunk WWE extreme rules match and he loved it. He got even closer. The thinner man got up after the brutal beating and found a rock. He tried to hit his opponent with it but missed and fell over.
Martin walked as quietly as he could as he tailed his son. He didn’t like where his son was going and the thought that immediately crossed his mind was that Calvin was experimenting with drugs. Martin had a shiver go down his spine as he thought about his son smoking weed or snorting cocaine. He stepped on a bottle and when he heard it break, he bit his tongue. Martin could only hope his son didn’t hear it. Martin had landed in a dark spot though and when Calvin looked back, he saw no one. Martin waited six seconds before beginning to walk again. He watched Calvin go down another alleyway, ‘Wendell Way,’ which was infamous for the rate of stabbings and muggings. Martin knew well about the kid that was killed down here. Ever since he told his kids not to even entertain the idea of going down there at night as at least one body was found there every morning.
He followed Calvin down. He watched his son stop and start to film two people begin to fight. Martin was perplexed, but he stayed back in case he spooked Calvin again; he wanted to see what he was doing. He watched the two men disengage. Another man joined in the fight. He was bigger and seemed sober. He wore a muscle vest over his ribbed, tattooed body. He brought a rush of brutality to the fight. Blood poured from the two fighters as muscle-vest attacked both at will. The violence sickened Martin. He wanted to rush in and separate them. What shocked him even more was that his son was edging closer to get better shots for his camera. He saw the bigger man pull a knife from his pocket. He rushed in front of Calvin and tried to separate the two men.
“Dad! No!” Calvin shouted, putting the camera down.”
The bigger man wrestled with Martin and the knife was flung to the side. Calvin got hold of the knife and held it up, rushing to his dad’s side and the man who originally started the fight, ran away. Martin just looked at Calvin while he caught his breath.
“What the hell are you doing, kid?” he asked, standing up and looking at Calvin, who was still holding the knife.
“I-I-I”, he stuttered, walking away from his dad, and going back to his camera and stopping the recording.
Martin looked at Calvin and he began crying; he needed an explanation and fast.
Calvin tried to head straight back home, but Martin grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
“What the actual hell are you doing?” he asked his son again, looking into Calvin’s eyes. “Why are you putting yourself in this much danger.” There was just silence as Martin’s words echoed off the walls. “Answer me!” Martin shouted as tears began running down his cheeks again.
“I needed money,” Calvin said, trailing off. “Nowhere would hire me.” Martin couldn’t believe his ears. “That doesn’t mean you fucking go out and film crimes! Boy did I not raise you right? Huh?”
There was silence again. Calvin hung his head, but Martin pulled it back up.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been making dad,” Calvin said, “I’ve been doing this for 2 months and I’ve made ten grand! 10 g’s, dad. I’m set for college.”
Martin couldn’t even fathom this was his son in front of him.
“I’m taking you to the police station right now,” Martin said, “You’re going to turn your videos and money in. You could have evidence to help cases that have torn families apart.”
His father took his hand and tried to take Calvin the direction of the police station, but Calvin dug his heels in and refused to walk, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Stop doing this!” Martin said, “This is immoral. I thought I did a good job of raising you. Obviously not if you’re just a money hungry bastard. You are no son of mine.”
Calvin got loose of his father’s grip. When Martin looked into his son’s eyes, there was something inside him that wasn’t him. He still had the knife in his grip, and he just squeezed the handle. He was now the main character in his own movie and just like the other blood-thirsty killers he had seen so many times on his TV screen, he decided to walk closer to his father. Martin didn’t like the way his son was looking at him and began to back away. He hit a wall and all he could do was hope Calvin came to his senses. It was like something Calvin had been supressing for all these years had been let out and freed. A smile appeared on his face, and he liked the fear in his dad’s eyes. He raised the knife up and stabbed Martin in chest who let out a blood-curdling scream. Calvin felt the warm blood on his shirt, and he liked the way it felt. Martin could only put his hands up try and defend himself. He was no match for his son who just kept stabbing him in the chest and laughed like an insane person as the blood flew everywhere. Martin looked down at his chest and slid down the wall. He reached out for Calvin and managed to grip the neck of his shirt, but Calvin just pushed his dying father off him. Calvin was covered in blood and left his father to die. He began filming once again, making sure to get his dad’s face and push his eyelids close. He smiled to himself, as he looked at the knife. Calvin thought the blood looked appetizing and he stuck it in his mouth, and he licked it clean. He saw his camera and began filming his now-dead father and then began talking.
“This is the dead body of my father, Martin Brooder,” Calvin explained, getting close-up shots of the blood oozing out of the wounds and he smiled again. “He tried to stop me from making this content and this is the aftermath. His blood taste’s sweet, just like strawberry jam.”
Calvin then stopped filming and he looked down at his shirt and an even bigger grin appeared on his face. His first murder victim had been his father and it had been perfect and would bring in the money for him. He now had the taste for killing.