Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction
Hell is no Place for an Angel By Susan Murphy
Hell is no Place for an Angel
I woke up on what I thought was an average day, awakened by the roadworks opposite my grandparents’ house – my pride and joy, my safe place, my home! Funnily enough, it wasn’t long ago that I hated this repulsive residence.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to that day – that horrible day... That day, my parents abandoned my brother Archie and me to enjoy a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity’ to visit the beautiful, blissful Bahamas. Without thinking, I told them I hated them... a stupid mistake. Everyone used to say to me that saying that you hate someone is like committing murder in your heart. I always thought it was a stupid, common cliché, yada yada! My words came back to haunt me, though – karma wasn’t my friend that day.
I didn’t have the best relationship with my parents and was on the verge of leaving the day I turned 16! However, you only know you love someone when you let them go. Obviously, it wasn’t my plan for my last words to my parents to be, ‘I hate you’, but that big mistake made me the person I am today! Most of the family think I am as sweet as honey – that butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth – but my conscience knows only too well what I am really like... my strong, courageous, determined and fiery temper got out of hand that day – how dare they announce they are going to the Bahamas??! I was enraged! How could they? I decided they wouldn’t be going... I read on serialkillers.com that an etch-a-sketch game contained poisonous mercury. I went out to the shop that day and purchased one. I sneaked into the kitchen and placed the deadly powder in their salad for dinner that night – something myself and my brother would never touch. To my horror, my mother placed salad on my brother’s plate!! No, No, No!!! He was the only person I cared for in the entire world. My plan was going to fail. So, I flipped the table. My parents thought it was another temper tantrum but for once I was acting out of kindness.
After two weeks in the Bahamas, I thought they would return – it’s been a year and eight months since the funeral.
I didn’t go to my parents’ funeral – I felt too guilty. Today was the day that I would visit their gravestone. I took my mother’s brooch – the only thing I had to remember her by. I had been passed down from generation to generation. I made the treacherous walk to the eerie, creepy graveyard where my precious parents lay cold – still sleeping, as I tell my five year old brother daily. Memories come flooding back like a slap in the face! I stood, silent, sincere and guilty. Suddenly the trees start to shake. The ground splits. The sky falls black. My heart thumps, my pulse races like a pounding jugular vein palpitating. I could feel sweat upon my brow. The gravestones started to rise with a great force and took to life, with arms and legs grasping for me. Was this really happening? I was plunged into the ground where I was greeted by my mum and dad, rotting away like an apple core. This had to be a dream. My mother started to rise from her slumber. She dived sharply on top of me and claimed her brooch. In doing so, she said, ‘it’s your fault we’re here – you will pay for what you’ve done! You will stay here FOREVER!!’ She laughed with a tormenting, sly grin that sent shivers up my spine. As if by magic, I started to fade away into a white colossus of bones – is this what dying feels like? My parents’ eyes were red and possessed – quite literally looking into my soul! I was trapped in a cold, gloomy confine of a grave with nobody to keep my company.
I possess two selves today – my dead self and my alive self. I learned that if you are nasty and degenerate towards others in life, you will certainly get your comeuppance in death...
By Katie Frew
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