Short Story: Dark Doubts

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Short Story: Dark Doubts

Published on Jan 01, 2022 by Amaya Jalal

I love writing! I really, really, really, do! Sometimes me and my family have short story contests, and we had one on New Years Eve! We all sat, isolated, dead silence, and wrote stories for an hour. (Sounds fun, right? 🤪) No, it really is. All these ideas are boiling up, and settling in. We add nice touches like covers. That image above? I painted that for my cover. Generally, I write sentimental, sad things. Same things goes with my drawings. I will tell you a little secret at the end of the story. I hope you enjoy it!

I walked from my room, eyes burning like the sun, minutes, maybe even seconds from exploding. Through a lens of an ocean deep, water slowly slipping, salty and stinging, against my stiff cheek. With every drop, a part of my innocence felt as if it were escaping. This moment didn’t feel right. I glanced back, all the way to the window of my room. My eyes had ran a marathon. Through my ocean eyes, I looked at the lights, the bustle, the dark shadowy night. I felt a sob slowly escape, as the hotness in my eyes spread throughout my face.

My eyes resurfaced, vision cutting like a knife. Staring upward, I saw the dome of marble, that felt like it was trying to eat me alive. My eyes traced downward, at the columns with gold touches and accents, to the winding staircase, leading to a hallway of more rooms, identical to mine. My mind began began to wander; to places it shouldn’t have gone. My heart began to race; faster than it should have gone. My feet were already trembling, shaking more than Krakatoa.

I went down the stairs, completely silent, just like I had been trained to do. The hall was dark; there was a faint light coming from the draped window. It was closed, but that eerie light still came through. I looked to the doors, how perfectly in line they were. None of them were open, all of them were boring and a cream color. They all had the same golden doorknob, which was the only thing glistening, with absolutely no scratches on them. I looked away, mouth slightly hanging in disgust, as a river started to form in my eyes, pushing to be let free. We were all in an assimilation, born with chains, raised with chains, and to die with chains.

The door to exit was somewhere hidden, not even in a place where my puzzle working skills could actually work. The river broke free, rushing and rough against my face. I ran back to my room, treading slowly up the stairs, and then rushing into my room. It didn’t even feel like mine. Just a place of dwelling for a few hours. I took the hard, barren chair, and pulled it up to the window. I could only see the lights and smiling people of Sydney, Australia. This is not how I would’ve wanted to spend an international outing. But I knew that this was only the first of many, many, many to come.

Why? Why was I put in this situation? I had barely known life, and was about to take a life! Why me? “Are you ready?” I turned around, and instinctively stood up tall to face my administrator. “Yes mam.” She pulled up her watch, and swiped around. “Your target is on Callary Street. You’ll navigate from there.” I nodded, and straightened my suit. Every weapon was where it should have been. I walked out the door, my administrator’s face blank and serious. As one last tear slipped from my eye, I walked through the door, that opened for me. I placed my mask on, and walked in.

Well, did ya like it??!! I wrote it as my entry into our story contest, and decided to share it. Now, that secret little thing. The cover I painted? Notice how it sorta looks like the back of Yelena’s hair. The idea that first came to mind, was that she was having doubts. Typically, people are like, “Whoa! She’s a super cool assassin! So skilled!” But I wanted to focus on how she must have felt before, you know, killing a dude! ‘Cause people generally don’t think about it that way. I decided that I can maybe make the character Yelena, or a character that’s random. Even if the character is maybe Yelena, it would not just be because I idolize her (along with Sylvie), but because she is a more obscure character. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

See Also

Short Story: Otzi the Iceman

Short Story: Otzi the Iceman

Otzi the Iceman was a mummy found in South Tyrol, Italy. He was over 5,000 years old. Is your mind boggled right now??!! Mhm, some hikers had found him, and thought he was just some hiker who had ventured off the trail, and met a terrible death. Unfortunately, they poked at him, trying to lift him and damaged the corpse. But boy, did scientists discover crazy things from him. Like, he was lactose intolerant. Bruh?? How did they find that? We later discovered, that he was murdered/ambushed. An arrow head was found in his shoulder. Found in the Otzal Alps, he was named Otzi. Our teacher asked us to write a story in regards to the iceman, using real facts. I’m telling ya, I jumped in my seat. For once, I could write what I wanted. Not like when you had to write an opinion on a given topic. I could write, anything, and just let the ideas flow. I swear, Tightrope from The Greatest Showman was playing in my head at that moment. Obviously, base it off facts, and it can’t be fantasy, but still. I finished it, and wanted to share. I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing it! (Also, did you know Brad Pitt has a tattoo of Otzi??!!)

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