That Darned Sadist!

• Gavin Chiem, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2010

I could see the exit, just a few metres to go. I shot a glance back at the shopkeeper, who stared at me in return. His eyes were drills, digging out my shameful secret. I began to sweat; surely the elderly man would have noticed my strange behaviour by now. Inching forwards, I made it out into the safety of the outside world. I punched the air in triumph, but in doing so, all of my pilfered treasures tumbled out of my jacket, like oil out of a leaking ship. The clanking crash of tins grabbed the attention of onlookers like a gunshot, but worst of all, the wizened shopkeeper was chuckling at my misfortune. He knew that I was a thief all along, that darned sadist!

“Let’s see,” the older man grumbled, ”three tins of corned beef and two cowbells, all worth…a million dollars. Cough up,” he snapped, clicking his fingers at me.
The terribly exaggerated price heightened my frustration. “Isn’t there something I could do to repay you?”
The man stroked his beard like an ordinary person would stroke a pet mouse.
“Well, I suppose you could deliver something for me,” he pondered, “Yes, you’ll take this package, and deliver it to Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan? You want me to deliver this package to Afghanistan?” I ranted. The man’s bravado was disturbing.
“Either that or go to jail,” he threatened. I had no choice but to obey the sadist’s wishes.

A blazing ball of fire erupted in mid-air, engulfing the entire aircraft in voracious flames. I woke up and was back on the aeroplane with the bomb still in my lap, waiting to detonate. I took a deep, breath and yelled, “BOMB!!” Chaos erupted, people were screaming as though the bomb had already gone off. A fist blocked my vision, and the world turned black.

I woke up at a deserted Afgan runway. The bomb lay in the middle of the tarmac, daring me to go closer. The desire to fling the bomb away took control of me as I inched towards it. I bent down to pick it up, but was stopped by a sudden yell. I spun and saw a squadron of men in bomb squad uniform marching towards me.

The men slowly picked away at the layers of the package, each second threatening a bloody end to them all. The box opened to reveal a smaller box, and that box had another box in it. It was a sadist’s game, a cross between Russian roulette and Pass-the-Parcel. The minutes went by. Suddenly, a ticking noise filled my ears. Panic seized my body, and I started to crawl frantically away from the danger. The ticking stopped, and a small “Ding!” followed. I shut my eyes and braced for the inferno. Seconds trickled by like water from a tap, and I realised that there was no bomb. That darned sadist! I ran to the “bomb” in triumph, but the bomb squad men yelled:

“PROXIMITY MINE!!”