The following is a story that I had to write for my english class. It is title-less.

Feel free to give me ideas, and tips to help my writing technique!

Twenty-three year old Emma Green lived in an average home is Boise Idaho with two floors, two bathrooms;one half bath and three bedrooms. For her future family she would always say. Her house was extra-ordinary. A new kitchen, with new hardwood floors, white cabinets were recently installed with black granite countertops. A few stools surrounding the countertops with a matching black fridge. A few feet from the fridge was where the hardwood flooring stopped, and carpet took over. A nice black leather couch sat in the center of the room on top of a white rug. In the center of the wall in front of the couch was a forty inch flat screen, all new. In front of the couch was a coffee table where a few pictures of baby Emma sat. The pictures showed a three year old toddler with long blonde curls that hung at her shoulders. Two smiling adults, in there mid-thirties held the child. They appeared to be on a mini golf course. Now she was all grown up, and living on her own, but not for long...
After a tiering day of work all Emma wants to do is go to bed, but something stops her, she just doesn't want to sleep all of a sudden, so she decides to read a story. Her favorite author had always been Poe. Probably because people had always disregarded him for jut another depressed soul. Emma decides to reread, for what must've been the three hundredth time, the Tell-Tale Heart. Something about the way the man hears the beating always thrilled her, how he just couldn't seem to keep his horrible secret inside of him any longer. When she finishes reading it,she goes upstairs to her bedroom to dress for bed. Though as soon as she reaches the steps the doorbell rings. She suddenly gets chills. Who would be here at such late an hour? Expecting the worst she peeps out the door. There was a man holding a rifle at his side knocking on the door.
"Miss? I know you're there. Could you please let me in? I'd just like to talk to you." Said the man.
Emma opened the door. "How may I help you?" She replied cooly.
"Please return in to me." He ordered gruffly, gripping his shotgun.
"What?" Emma said shocked, eyeing the weapon.
The man muttered, "I didn't want it to come to this, but..."
Emma quickly slammed the door, locking it and then raced up the stairs, going three steps at time. She hid in her bathroom, staring at herself in the post-renovated bathroom mirror. She mumbled, "He's mistaken, this is a joke." Over and over. Suddenly she heard gunshots,then a man's scream. She screamed as wet, dark blood seeped under the door and on to her white blouse as she leaned against the door. She peaked through a crack in the door. She saw the man's body lying in heaps. His gun was lying near the door, where as his arms were over by the steps. His toes must've been shot off from the gun, because they were no longer attached to his foot. In the man's skull was the handle of an axe. Having the edge buried deep within the man's brain.
Emma, still in shock walked, as if entranced down the stairs toward the house phone. She noticed the blood smeared along the white staircase. "The man must've been dragged." Emma thought and grimaced. The phone was connected to the kitchen wall. Her new cabinets were now as colorful as a Jackson Pollock. She gripped the counter top edges to steady herself as she groped her way toward the phone. She picked up the phone and held it up to her ear. "No dial tone?" Emma asked herself. "How?" She swallowed her tears. "How can I call help?"
"You can't." The man told her. "You know what I want, please return it to me!" He smiled.
"I don't-"
She was dead before her head hit the floor, adding her color to the canvas that was her cabinets.
The man then bent down, and whispered into the corpse, "Fine, I'll get it myself." He stood up and found a knife in the drawer. He sliced open her chest, mindlessly pulling out her arteries, slicing through any piece that was in his way. When he finished, he put her heart in his leather bag that'd been around his waist. He mopped up the blood, but left the white countertops bloody. He put her into her bed, tucked her in, and left. A few weeks later the cops came. They found her and the pieces of the man. Emma had appeared to be sleeping until they remover the covers and say an empty cleaned up hole where her heart used to be.

A twenty three year old Cecile comes home from her first day of work. Suddenly the doorbell rings, and standing there is a man. He's holding a shotgun, and asking her politely if she'd return it to him...

End of Story