You Can Try But Will Always Fail.

• Connor Whitfield , Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2013

My name is Jack Harlow, I'm 13 and I'm in the middle of my execution. I was being charged for murder. I didn't do it though, my twin brother did.

"Jack you have been charged with murder!" I heard the executioner say. "I DIDN'T DO IT!" I yelled back. I had to break out. Then there was a gunshot. I closed my eyes and I waited for it to hit. But it never came, I opened my eyes I saw the executioner on the ground with a bullet in his head and blood pouring out. There was another gunshot. It hit my shackles. I quickly jumped up and ran "You can't hide Jack!" I heard general Collier yell. Then I got hit by a bullet straight through my heart. I awaited the darkness and it soon came the darkness...

"...idiot... didn't have... kill...!" I heard a faint voice say. I was weak. I felt myself at the bottom of a cliff and life was up the top. I tried climbing but couldn't. I needed help. Frantically I yelled for anyone but no sound came out, I was scared. No I was more then scared. I was dead. Suddenly I felt pumping on my chest. I was getting stronger. I started to climb and I got higher and higher. I was nearly there but the pumping stopped. I fell back down.

I was falling, I embraced myself for the fall to end. But I fell straight through the floor. I woke up to a beeping noise. I was too weak to open my eyes "Come on Jack. Wake up." I had to indicate I was alive some how. I then felt a hand in mine. I tried to squeeze. I gathered all my strength, and found it. I squeezed and squeezed. "He's squeezing my hand!" the person yelled then I opened my eyes. It took a moment for me to adjust to my new surroundings. I saw myself. But I soon realised it was my brother.

I was out of hospital a few weeks later back to the start. I was being executed. But this time so was my brother. My brother was first to go. When the axe came down I winced. His head rolled to my feet. I looked at his terrified face. It couldn't end like this. No it can't. I started to cry. But then I was knocked down to my knees, and my head lay there. I embraced myself. I could feel the air between me and the axe. I felt it go up. Then it came down, I let out a small yelp, there was a lot of pain. But it soon subsided. This is me now, the underworld is my home now. I was in hell. I worked hard but death for me would never come.

I will die a happy man if I get out of this hellhole. But there was no way out. Only an entrance. I often wonder, Why me?