Kill Or Poison

• Isla Thompson, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2019

As Samantha sneaked around the house, all the floorboards creaked, her tanned olive skin was barely visible in the dim light coming from the downstairs workshop. Sam’s dad worked into the late hours of the night. Bouncy ripples of hair fell to her shoulders, knotty and tousled. Sam’s pyjamas were far too big for her as she lightly touched the noisy floorboards. All of Samantha’s family lived together in a big 2-story brick house.

As she came to the end of the hallway, a set of antique drawers stood confronted her. Sam quietly rifled through the imposing drawers, until she found a small vial of liquid. The vial of liquid was held in a petite sea green bottle, a cork was jammed on top. Samantha popped the cork off and carefully threw it in the bin beside her.

Silently she stepped down the stairs and another long corridor stood in front of her, one she knew so well. She tiptoed along, Sam’s lips were tight, and her eyes showed no sign of entertainment. A massive wooden door stood towering over Sam, she slipped inside. “Phew”, Samantha breathed, wiping her left brow. Her Aunt was snoring and fast asleep.

Soon she stood holding the bottle in her trembling hands, and was about to drop the liquid in her Aunt’s open mouth when she heard a booming voice. She recognised the voice immediately as her father’s. “Hey who’s there?”, he said in an agitated tone. Sam, in pure fright dropped the miniature vial and, in her horror, it made a dreadful shattering sound, sure to wake everyone up. Her dad was now coming downstairs. Thank God her Aunt was a heavy sleeper. The bottle was now in a million pieces on the hard floor. She quickly dashed to her bedroom just as her father came down, tears of worry and fear streaming down her face.

A low clinking sound echoed throughout the house meaning her dad was picking up the pieces. His low voice whispered loudly, as he examined the liquid lying on the floor in a light blue colour, “POISON”.

Samantha couldn’t sleep that night. Would they know it was her? Samantha knew that her Aunt had murdered her Mum. But nobody else knew that. As she dozed off eventually, she imagined her Aunt’s devil-like voice calling to her. Sam felt ashamed of herself for not killing her Aunt, but secretly she was relieved. Sam was not a murderer like her Aunt.

When she woke up the next morning, her Aunt Jenny was sitting on her bed smiling. A fake, horrific smile. Samantha screamed as her Aunty drew out a knife…..