I’m laughing and talking with my friends, occasionally taking bites of spaghetti or sips of wine, when I see a waiter approaching me out of my peripheral vision. I keep talking to my friends, assuming he’s coming to refill my wine for me. But instead I watch the man take a small vial out of his pocket. It’s filled with a strange vibrant purple liquid. He tips the vial carefully into my drink. I am immediately suspicious of him. People don’t usually just dump a random purple substance into your wine…. I tentatively walk up to the shady waiter. “Excuse me?” I say loudly, and he slowly turns around to face me. “What did you put in-“ I start, but then I realize who he is. My son…. My son, Alexander who had disappeared 8 years ago, after a mysterious “accident“. Alexander?” I whisper, a tear glistening on my cheek. “Yes, long time no see…,”my son says, pulling out a long, silver knife. He quickly hurls the weapon toward my head, and I don’t even get a chance to say another word before everything fades into black.
Seeing something you’ve never seen before,
Or so you think, but there’s much more,
A vague sense of familiarity making you doubt,
Not knowing why makes you want to shout,
Coming up with strange, unlikely reasons,
As to why your memory has committed treason,
Asking others if they feel it too,
This is the sense of déjà vu.
The leaves slowly tumbling down,
All turned red, or a light shade of brown,
A crisp, cool wind blowing in the air,
Whooshing and gusting, loudly it blares.
A thin layer of snow coating the ground,
Children’s joyous shouts echoing around,
The sweet smell of autumn, making one smile,
Wafting and winding, for many a mile.
The cheerful emotions are widespread and vast,
Rejoice, for fall is here at last.
5/2/21 “Ma’am, we found your son dead. We have no idea what caused it. I’m so sorry for your loss.” My heart stopped beating for a moment as I silently wept, my head in my tear-covered hands. I looked up at the police who delivered the terrible news, my mouth opening to speak. He was frozen in a standing position with his head tilted downward in grief for my beloved son. I looked sideways and see my adorable Doberman, Hazel also frozen mid-step. Next, barely seeing through my wet, blurry eyes, I glimpsed my daughter with her AirPods in, making popcorn to snack on. Like the police officer and my dog, her body seems glued in one position. Puzzled, I took a quick glimpse of the clock. The hand counting seconds wasn’t moving at all. ‘Probably my imagination,’ was one of the false guesses circling inside of my head. Suddenly I snapped out of my trance, or whatever it was, and everything jumped back into action. ‘That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,’ I thought, and later I would conclude that I was more than right.“Where was he found?” I whispered. “The super market,” comes the raspy reply. My heart sank even lower than it had been before. I had sent my son to go get some groceries at the super market two hours before I received the news, and had wondered where he was. ‘He’s in a better place now...’ I thought, trying, but failing to make myself feel better.
5/9/21
The time stops had been occurring whenever I mourn for my son, or feel sad or angry. Everyone I see just, freezes. The conclusion I came to is that I’m doing this. What’s wrong with me?
5/15/21
Went to a fancy restaurant to celebrate my friends birthday. I was fine until I started thinking about my son. Predictably, everyone froze. Except for a woman at the back of the restaurant, who walked toward me. “Oh, Mia, Oh Mia, ” she said looking at me sympathetically. “Who are you?” I demanded. “Are you the one doing this?” “Who else would be doing it? You?” she said mockingly and cackled wildly as if she thought I was some kind of pathetic three-year-old. While she was still evilly laughing, (wow, that was a long laugh) I warily grabbed a key out of a waiters pocket. Once she was finished chuckling she said, “I killed your son, if you’re wondering,” with another evil guffaw. I lunged toward her, forgetting she was very dangerous. “You’ll. Die. For. That.” She easily held me back with a third howl of demonic pleasure. Thinking that I shouldn’t try to punch her, which was the thing I wanted to do most, I ran out of the restaurant with the key and my phone. While the woman went to the front desk to steal all of the money contained in the restaurant, oblivious to my clever plans, I locked all the doors than waited for everyone to unfreeze. Later, once she was done raiding the safe, I saw the murderer looking around for me, brandishing a knife. Eventually she realized I had outsmarted her because of her stupidity and my wits, and tried every possible way to unlock the doors, but she couldn’t. Eventually everyone unfroze. I pulled out the phone and called the police. Breathlessly, I told them about how I found the woman that killed my son and that she had also robbed the restaurant. The incident was in their hands now.
6/3/21
Just got word that the insane woman has been caught. I testified against her in her trial, and she was sentenced to jail for the rest of her life due to her many crimes. She deserved what she got. I still haven’t figured out how she froze time, but I’m determined to. My son would’ve gotten to the bottom of this in no time. I’m missing him more than ever...
I walk into the oak-wood wardrobe gently opening the carefully-chiseled door knobs. The smells I’m greeted with are terrible. There’s an overwhelming scent of sweat. There are clothes hanging untidily that smell like they’ve never heard of a dishwasher. I hold my nose, grimacing. I see a black shirt, and a dirty pair of denim shorts. The hamper is empty, and looks like it’s never been used. But worst of all, a rat lurks in the corner. A scream is heard throughout the house as I run out of the excuse of a wardrobe.
I walk into the oak-wood wardrobe gently opening the carefully-chiseled door knobs. The smells I’m greeted with are terrible. There’s an overwhelming scent of sweat. There are clothes hanging untidily that smell like they’ve never heard of a dishwasher. I hold my nose, grimacing. I see a black shirt, and a dirty pair of denim shorts. The hamper is empty, and looks like it’s never been used. But worst of all, a rat lurks in the corner. A scream is heard throughout the house as I run out of the excuse of a wardrobe.
I walk into the oak-wood wardrobe gently opening the carefully-chiseled door knobs. The smells I’m greeted with are terrible. There’s an overwhelming scent of sweat. There are clothes hanging untidily that smell like they’ve never heard of a dishwasher. I hold my nose, grimacing. I see a black shirt, and a dirty pair of denim shorts. The hamper is empty, and looks like it’s never been used. But worst of all, a rat lurks in the corner. A scream is heard throughout the house as I run out of the excuse of a wardrobe.
Beatrice wished she didn’t have to kill the king. She truly didn’t want to, but of course she had to. That night the king was inviting every maiden in town to attend a ball, where he would choose his queen. His name was King Charming II. He was following the tradition of his father, who hosted a similar ball and married Cinderella. The truth was, he was a complete tyrant, and treated the townspeople very unfairly, starving them, and plotting against them. All King Charming II cared about was money and was even planning to sell his kingdom to the enemy for a large amount of it. He was using some kind of sorcery to possess them, so naturally everyone loved him. Since Beatrice was the only one who could fight back against the hypnosis, she had to stop his reign. There was quite a buzz about the ball, and people wouldn’t stop talking about it. Beatrice knew everyone had gone to the ends of the earth to look their prettiest, but she had to look more gorgeous than all of them. Her plan was to be chosen as queen, than when she was alone with the king, to kill him. Beatrice did a fabulous messy, but stunning bun on the top of her head with her sandy blonde hair. After glancing at her mirror, Beatrice raided her closet, first taking out the dresses and throwing the ugly ones across her room. She selected a lavender empire-cut, strapless gown and slipped it on gently. Taking another look at the mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself. The dress looked incredible on her, and the lavender went perfectly with her skin tone. After applying eye-shadow, she strode confidently to the castle. She was the most adored girl in the ball room, and all eyes were fixed on her as she waltzed elegantly across the floor. Beatrice even saw the king himself gaping at her. After writing down her name, she danced for a while, once with the king. The whole time his eyes were locked permanently on her.
A week later the letters had come and Beatrice was glad to find out that she was the new queen. It was time to save her kingdom. She was welcomed into the fancy castle, which stretched far and wide with rooms upon rooms of vintage and expensive items. The con however, was that the whole time Beatrice had to experience the king’s tyranny. When they were alone one night, she pulled out her knife, ready for the kill, but right before she assassinated King Charming II, he jolted up in bed. He seemed out of the trance he had been in during the ball and during the other parts of Beatrice’s stay. “I’m not controlling my citizens! It’s her, her ghost, she’s controlling me!” Please don’t kill me...” he cried desperately. “Who’s controlling you?” Beatrice asked warily. “Cinderella!” was the croaky reply. After using her handy tool, truth serum, Beatrice decided she had a new target...
Noah slipped into his tiny twin bed and fell into a restless sleep. He had the strangest feeling that someone or something was watching him, and it was very unsettling.
Around two-o-clock in the morning Noah heard a weird clatter. It sounded like metal banging against metal. He also heard pounding footsteps. As the sound grew louder and louder Noah sat up in bed anxiously. “Mom?” he asked. “Dad?” No one responded and the footsteps quickened to a run. Soon Noah saw an unfamiliar woman enter his room with a knife. Before he knew it she was holding the knife to his throat. He gasped and blurted, “Anything! I’ll do anything you want if you don’t kill me!” “Yeah, right,” she replied, “and I’m the queen of England.” “No, I promise! Please! Don’t kill me!” She stared at me for a moment, sizing me up. “Fine. I won’t kill you if you join my gang. If you don’t please me, Ill kill you, your family, and anyone you’re close to.” Noah gulped nervously. He’d do everything possible to save himself, and his family. “Alright.” He said. “Meet tomorrow in the alley between the jewelry shop and the clothing store at noon,” the woman said, and quickly added, “Or else,” waving her knife.
Noah couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Why would he sleep? He had dug himself in a deep hole that he wasn’t sure he could dig himself out of. Why did he do something so cowardly? And if he failed to fulfill one of the mafias requests,what would be the consequences? Noah did this to save his family, but he wasn’t feeling very heroic at the moment.
The next day, Noah woke with a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was about to do the worst thing he had ever done in his life, at such a young age. If he was arrested, then would the police listen to the truth, the real reason he decided to join the gang? Most likely not, which would put him in deep trouble. Noah’s stepfather thought he was a bad kid, but his mother saw him as a complete angel. If his mother found out what he was doing, he couldn’t bear her disappointment. His troubles weighing heavily on his burdened mind, Noah trudged down the stairs to the kitchen. Upon seeing him, his mother frowned, very concerned. “Are you okay honey?” She asked him. “Yeah mom,” Noah lied. “I’ll make you some pancakes,” she said, her brow still wrinkled with worry. Noah went throughout the next part of his day normally, but he felt anything but normal.
At noon he told his mother he was going on a “walk through the woods” and left to meet with the murderer and her gang. With each step, his guilt increased. When he reached the alley, he saw the same woman with a strange group of people crowding around her. “You’re late,” she said in her guttural, raspy voice. The strange people stared at Noah until he was very uncomfortable, then the woman started to speak. “Noah,” she said. “This is my gang.” Her gang grunted their greetings. There were about ten people in the group. One was tall and bald, with a curly red mustache. Another had brunette, shoulder-length hair with a frightening amount of pimples. But the ones that stood out the most were the identical twins, shaking vigorously at the back of the alleyway. Noah guessed they had been forced into the gang just like he had been. Since I described the gang for all of you readers, now I will describe the murderer. She had short and straight blonde hair, an abundance of freckles, and she was beautiful in a menacing way. “By the way, Noah, my name is Belladonna, and I have an assignment for you. If you fail, too bad, you die. If you succeed, well, I’ll think about giving you a reward.” Noah groaned. He hoped his task would be easy and bloodless. “I want you to kill my mother. She’s highly suspicious of me.” Noah gaped in pure terror at Belladonna. How could the woman be so evil as to ask a 14-year-old boy to kill her mother? At these words, Noah decided the murderer was a soulless monster. But little did he know, Belladonna only asked because it was to painful to do it herself. She still had a speck of kindness.
Reachedwordlimitsorry
Victorious An overwhelming sense of victory, coursing through my veins, making me feel like the greatest person in existence. Prideful Pride, seeping through my body, Arrogance taking over, leaving no room for an ounce of humbleness and modesty. Satisfied Satisfaction, making me feel amazing, and accomplished, gallon by gallon, pouring into my body.
