Necropolis

• Rylee Hang, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2022

Necropolis

“Hello.” the voice whispers disturbingly, “I’ve been watching you for the whole of your life.”

I want you to know that I wasn’t always hearing voices everywhere. It was only a couple of days ago that it started. Or was it weeks, or was it years? Everything and everyone seemed to have sped up since I was able to communicate with ghosts. Everyone apart from me. People were talking faster, walking faster, even thinking faster. And I was the exception. But then again, how many of you can communicate with ghosts?

It all started when my mother was murdered in front of my eyes. In front of our eyes, I should say but my father was soon released from that burden. The splatter of red blood against our freshly painted walls. The gleam of the polished knife in the moonlight. The coldness in the eyes of my parents' murderer. I swear I saw their face even though it was tightly wrapped up in a raven black fabric but the policemen didn’t believe me. Of course they didn’t, my parents had just been murdered in front of my eyes and I was ‘hallucinating’, or so they told me.

Why?! Why won’t people have trust in the rest of the human population?! Why wouldn’t the policemen believe what I said?! Just why?!

And then shortly, the voices started. First it was one that consoled me, one in my dear deceased mother’s voice; “You’ll be fine.” and then, glimpses of my past and future et cetera. But the most chilling vision, was me reliving that moment, us exchanging acidulous animadverts, me absconding from the house while they believed I was ‘cooling down’ and finally, them being murdered in cold-blood while pursuing me. When I started describing how it was occurring, I earned the luxury of suffering for 2 hours straight, twice a week. TWICE. And all I could do was talk about my ‘trauma’. Well, I was traumatised, but not to that degree. So I did the only logical thing to do, I strangled her. To death.

Since there were no injuries to her corpse, I was let off the hook after no proof could be rendered. Determined to defog my future and unravel my past trauma, I made the gravest mistake of my life…

And there I was. At my parents grave, in front of a Ouija Board.
“Father, Mother, hear my cries! Accompany me in transforming this city into a City of The Dead! Transforming it into a necropolis!”

And a necropolis did it become …