Creative Writing

His Darkest Deed

by Gianna Liantonio

Darkness. That is all I am met with as I lay in my bed. The sound of the clock is met with silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I look over at the clock. It’s still the middle of the night. I sigh as I close my eyes once more trying to fall asleep. Then…..BANG! I shoot up at the sound and look at my door. Nothing. Panting, I lay back down slowly and close my eyes once more. BANG! I shoot up once more, looking over at the door. I still see nothing. Intrigued, I get up making the bed creak. I walk out of my room and down the dark and dim hallway. Slowly, I walk down the hall, making each floorboard creak. I look around and am met with pure darkness. 

All I hear is my fast heart beating as if it was coming out of my chest. I walk into the living room and all of a sudden, I am hit with what seemed like a million memories, flashing in my mind at lightning speed, pain as if it is splitting my skull in two. Going to his house. Pain! Knocking on the door. Pain! The door opening, revealing his gleeful face. Pain! Him letting me in. Pain! Him offering me tea. Pain! Him going to the bathroom. Pain! Me getting a knife from the kitchen. Pain! Me going back into the living room. Pain! Him coming back into the living room. Pain! Me holding the knife behind my back. Pain! Me slowly bringing it out. Pain! Me pointing the knife at his chest. Pain! And with no time for him to react, I plunge the knife into his chest. Pain! Blood spurting out, as he falls onto the floor; blood flowing onto the pearly white rug. Pain! Me picking him up, blood staining my clothes and hands. Pain! Me going outside in the pouring rain, thunder rolling in. Pain! Me digging up the ground, making a deep hole. Pain! Grabbing the body, his blood still pouring out as if it were an eternal fountain. Pain! His blood stains my hands and seeps into my clothes, staining them as I pick up the body and throw it into the ground. Pain! Patching up the ground, covering up the crime scene. Pain! Me going back home to rest. 

As the pain is done, I recover panting, leaning on the couch. I then go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. In the water’s reflection, I see him. I ignore it and drink the water in one gulp. I then go back to bed, but don’t sleep. I look over and see him in my mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. He was gone. I sigh. I thought I wouldn’t feel guilty about my deed. I knew it had to be done. He deserved all he got. He was always the golden boy. The one who did all the right things. And what was I? The one who did all the wrong things. Even my own parents thought so. So, I devised a plan to be rid of him once and for all. And I went through with the plan. And I succeeded with the plan.

 Then, I hear them. More noises. I ignore them and go to sleep. Then, I hear the whispers. The whispers from the other side. The side that is a complete alternate universe from ours. They say if you look into a mirror long enough, you can open that universe. I was never one to believe in superstitions, but I never risk things either. I then see him again in the mirror and I can’t help but stare. I stare into the mirror, into his face and his piercing hazel eyes.  Then it happens. He puts his hand on the mirror and is coming through. He slips through the mirror as if it has turned to water and heads straight for me. Leaving me no time to react, he gets a knife and slits my throat. I choke, grabbing my throat, and feeling the blood pouring out onto my hands. 

I hear him say one last thing before everything went black. “It is time the world was rid of you, brother.”

Categories: Creative Writing

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