Daggers

• Sanduni Jinadasa, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

Walking with a casual strut, a brilliant smile spread across his face along with a slight squint in his left eye, Edward greeted everyone with a wink and a laugh, his illuminative joy echoed down the street. Neatly shaved, with clean and ironed clothing, Edward had quite a tall stature, with a striking face too. Anyone who entered his presence would soon forget their worries and smile, simply by looking at how young and happy he was. Opening his apartment door, he placed his hat and coat neatly on the hooks before wondering in.
“Ah Edward! I’d like you to meet Miss Jones.” His mother stepped aside as a young, almost plain looking girl stepped forward, smiling slightly. He had noticed his mother’s conspicuous emphasize of the word ‘Miss’.
“It’s absolutely wonderful to finally meet you Miss Jones!” He took her hand, clasping it tightly in his rather large ones. “Alas! I have some very important errands I must run that I have left untouched for quite some while. I would love to get to know you more at dinner perhaps?” With this, Edward nodded before turning towards his room, closing his door behind him.
Sitting down on the large bed, he held his head in his hands, allowing his upright posture to slump forwards into a weary sigh. His face normally expressing enthusiasm morphed dramatically to form quite a horrific, grotesque image. The loneliness soon returned, consuming him, alike to how a snake does to its already dead prey. He desperately attempted to call out, but not a sound was produced. Building up his strength, he dragged his feet to the door, sweating heavily like a stallion, the weight on his shoulders only growing as the long, black fingers grasping his heart tighter and tighter. They caught him before he made it to the doorknob. There was no escape now. ‘No one would believe you, Eddy boy.’ Their voices were daggers, ripping through his cranium, leaving thorns as they slashed. They were right. Everyone believed his act. They always had. Edward felt the doors closing in, the darkness caving, the world around him fading; everything being replaced with the screeching screams and shrieks.
It is quite a peculiar situation that Edward is in. From the outside he is flawless, one who is able to swat any problem off his shoulder, one who was only jovial. No words would be able to describe the disbelief the people around this troubled man, would experience were they to ever know how trapped this ‘perfect’, this ‘content’, this ‘jovial’ person really is. They simply would not be able to comprehend what they do to him. They simply would not be able to comprehend the horror those daggers create of Mr Edward Bishop’s life.