By: Kasvi Methi, 10 A

The story won 2nd place in Literati ‘Story writing’ event

The bang of the gunshot was ringing in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. I could hear somebody screaming, the sound faint against the deafening, high-pitched ring. I don’t know for how long I just stood there in the hallway, staring at the boy with the pistol, insanity spilling from his eyes like the blood from the wound he put in another’s chest.

For a long time, I didn’t hear much more. But suddenly, my ears became filled with the wailing of sirens and the buzz of many people talking over each at once. Every sound pricked my ears and hurt my head and I wish it was possible to just turn it all off. My eyes saw an empty schoolyard but all my ears heard was noise.
A small girl played on the swing set, her legs in the air, too short to touch the ground. Ignoring my throbbing ears to the best of my ability, I walked over to her.
“Do you heat that?” I asked her.
She smiled at me and patted the seat next to her. I sat down and repeated my question.
This time, she frowned, got off her swing and began pushing mine. She was very strong for a child. The swing creaked as it moved back and forth with every powerful shove.
“Stop!” I yelled again and again, bile rising in my throat.
She didn’t stop- until the swing’s chain snapped, throwing me on the hard concrete footpath.
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“How is Allison?” Mr. Raskin asked, looking at his daughter, who lay on the hospital bed, motionless.
“She’s fairly stable, but we don’t know when …” Dr. Dunn trailed off,
Mrs. Raskin who was caressing Allison’s hand, sighed and wiped away a tear that had fallen on it and whispered, “Come back to me, Ally. I miss you.”
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I didn’t feel anything as I stood up, dusted myself and turned around to shout at the little girl. But now, she stood in front of another older girl.
“Come back to me Ally. I miss you.” I heard a very familiar voice say.
“Did you say something?” I asked the unnervingly and unmistakably gorgeous girl. Smirking but without a word, she took my hand in hers and led me to a door that I hadn’t noticed before.
On it, there was a label. I pulled away trying to read it. The letters looked familiar, I definitely knew them, but the words were … undecipherable.
Something somebody said to me came to me in a flash of images and sounds. “In dreams, it isn’t possible to feel pain or read.”
The girl disappeared. My eyes saw darkness, amplifying the sounds in my ears.
A woman was crying. My sister? A friend? My mother?
“She will be fine, Mrs. Raskin. She’s recovering fast.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” I say to myself.
My nails were digging into my palm, drawing blood but without any sensation.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”
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The janitor opened the door of the room belonging to the girl who had been brought in a few months ago after a shootout at her school.
Every day, he would walk into her room and read to her a book on lucid dreaming. But today, her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes were a beautiful blue.
THE END