Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Tragedy of the Throne This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Blood, splattered across the wall like venom, searing pain busted against every window.

I can see it in my mind as he approaches me, ready to devour the only sanity that’s left of me.

I am about to die.

His voice, speaking words of ancient tales, remembering the nights we solely shared. I remember him as clearly as the last sunset beckons me to run. The daylight is such a trivial thing and it will not win my life here.

I have lost this round.

His heavy breathing pounds against my ears like tribal drums. Keeping with such consistency, he whispers my name.

That is the confirmation I need to understand the reason behind his killing.

No other words need to be said, only the envy in his voice rises the suspicion to knowledge.

I wonder if it hurts him now, to do this, to me.

The bottle in his hand cracks, crushing into a thousand pieces between his fingers. I can see myself in the reflection as they tumble to the floor. My breathing hitches in my throat and I am unable to escape the death that is looking me straight in the face.

He takes another step closer to me, and he’s so close, I can feel his breath sweeping across my face.

Liquor and cigarettes.

His feet pound against the floorboards, their voice screeching against the weight of his body.

I remember when he protected me from everything I was afraid of.

I screamed his name more than I screamed our mothers.

And tonight, he is killing his little sister.

I wonder if he thinks our parents would be proud.

“Alice.”

His voice is softer than the night’s wind, making it’s way through the stormy clouds.

I stare at him through the darkness, hoping to find the pieces of the boy I called my brother. But all I see is the hard set jaw of a murderer.

His eyes are darker than the attic.

He places a foot in front of the other, and my back hits a wall.

I close my eyes and hold my breath.

My time is done.

That’s when I feel it. The crisp, cold, blade ripping through my jacket, my shirt, my flesh, hitting bone and then wall.
Air slips through my mouth as I gasp for it to come back. Blood rises in my throat, bubbling over my lips. I can feel the life slowly failing from me as I try to remember how to breathe.

My fingers wind themselves around my brother’s arms, trying to hold myself up from the betrayal.

The world is spinning.

I open my eyes to see the smile on his face. He leans into me, his lips barely brushing my earlobe.

“Maybe mommy will love me now.”

That’s the last thing I hear before the darkness takes over.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback