The Betrayal

• Kira Klancevic, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

The inky canvas of blue cradled the moon in its elegant, stoic grace. Resplendent and ravishing, the intricate and exquisite stars enveloped themselves in the silky, ebony black. Amica’s hazel eyes wandered in the blackness. She brushed her fingertips against a cold, rigid surface. Her head tilted upwards, and the moon’s radiant beams caressed her cheek, bathing it in the moonlight. When she looked around frantically, she came to the realisation that she was in a dark, glass cube. Pupils dilated, the moon’s rays were all she had amidst the darkness.

Amica screamed. Her shrieks ricocheted off the glass walls, and she bashed her fists against it hysterically. Pearlescent, silvery tears streamed down her skin. In her sobbing there was a painful reality being brought to light; her sorrow almost speaking harsh words of truth and earth-shattering reality. It was a story of agony told in tears. Amica tried to scream again, but her calls were muted. The silence was almost deafening. It sent chills down her spine, and the stillness, the piercing stillness, was the epitome of her anguish. Amica’s body felt heavy and limp. Her fists were numb, and she collapsed on the ground. Suddenly, she heard soft footsteps, and she was greeted by a boy, not much older than her. His hair was jet black, and his face held a small yet radiant beam.

Amica stared at the boy, until she finally spoke. ‘‘Who…who are you?’’ She said with a wavering voice. The boy glanced at her with ocean eyes and spoke with a trembling voice. ‘‘Who I am doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here. I really don’t like the dark.’’ Amica felt a strange feeling of pity, seeing a complete stranger reveal his vulnerability, and she felt an urge to help him. She gave him all her food and water. Kindness would always come back to you. Or so she thought. They talked under a moonlit night, completely oblivious that the sky had diffused into a blood-red hue.

Amica awoke. Her eyes were greeted by bright rays of light, and she winced. The light seemed to be a blessing, a gift from the heavens. She stood to her feet, and there it was. A tunnel, with light at the end. Her heart palpitated, and adrenaline shot through her body. Could this be it? Could this be the exit to this horrific nightmare? As she began to crawl towards the light, she felt a pair of arms pulling her back into the darkness. It was the boy. ‘I’m sorry. But I have to do what I need.’ He clenched his knife and thrust it through her back. Amica smiled painfully through tears of disbelief as she was drained to the core. Her back continued to bleed. Above them, above the glass cube and the bare trees, was a blood moon. A treachery marked in permanent red ink. She was drowning in the liquid of her own self-sacrifice.