Emily Castle-The Human Apocalypse by Jinapher J. Hoffman
An Original Short Story
My name is Emily Castle. Those who know me, don’t. Those who don’t know me, don’t. My life is the epitome of “don’ts”. I tell myself to never breathe in too often because the apocalyptic feel of our atmosphere might kill me, and then I also tell myself to never think about anything because when I do, it’s like an uncontrollable explosion. A great example would be that wicked volcano that destroyed Pompeii. The world is my Pompeii and I am its volcano. At the same time, I’m it’s only saving grace. I’m the cold wave that will wash over the burning fires and falling debris. I am the tsunami that will end those fires, but only cause more chaos.
I am Emily Castle, and my thoughts are murderous.
I cannot blink, or speak, and I absolutely cannot think. I must be a frozen statue covered in ice, sculpted with fine precision into a block of rock where no one can find me and where I cannot find them. I am a bad person. Not exactly because I want to be but because I need to be. If I do not strike at least one city down within twenty-four hours, Something terrible will crawl up into my throat and tighten a noose. So, I kill, and I kill, and I enjoy the freedom that comes with it.
I guess I should be ashamed of the way I deal with my inner turmoil. Usually, people like me…Never mind, there is NO ONE like me. However, if there were more people like me, they probably would have jumped off the mystical cliff I now sit on instead of watching themselves destroy the entire world.
I started with the US, because I knew they had the most vital resources available to most countries. I know that sounds cruel, but I rather kill everyone quick and fast then draw it out. If I didn’t, then I really would be the evil everyone wants me to believe. So, the US came first. I sent earthquakes where there is never earthquakes, tsunamis where there is never water, and fire where there are no forests. I demonstrated to them the impossible, because that’s what I am: I’m possible.
Next came all of Europe, then Asia, and slowly came Africa. I moved on to erupt the Ring of Fire, and then I brought in a hurricane so large and so deadly that the scientists couldn’t put it on a scale. I killed them all. I killed them. I killed the world.
It sucked at first, knowing that I was the reason the world ended. Then, I remembered that I had no control over this; over who I am. I was nervous for a long time that killing the world would be too much for me to handle. I was scared I would fall dead, my heart freezing over with the dead world around me. But, I figured out a loop-hole. I am a survivor, and so I had to survive the world ending. I HAD to. So, I left fifty people alive on each continent. All are kids ranging from thirteen to nineteen, and none of them are immune to my darkness. At night, I send the tremors of earthquakes and other smaller versions of the monstrosities I used to destroy the world, only at night. I keep it to a schedule, giving them enough time to prepare themselves. I do not want to intentionally hurt them. They are the reason I am still alive, so I think I owe them the opportunity of a life too. Though it’s not much of one with all of the debris and rubble lying around, I still give them the occasional snow storm and then clear it up enough to have a sunny day. I can be good. I want to be good. It’s just very difficult to do when I know evil is building up inside me every time I keep myself from releasing it. Within a few years, I’ll have to explode once again. I’ll have to become a more devastating monster than I was before. I’ll have to kill my heart’s only refuge: the fact that some still live. I’m a mass murderer, but by leaving them alive, I am not a total murderer. If I don’t get to chose if I’m a murderer or not, then I like the idea of getting to decide what kind of murderer I have to be. Even in this body with so many restrictions, I have found ways for freedom to reign. In three years, I will have to break my heart all over again, killing off those I have let survive. But, until then, I will be good. I will be nice. I will spare them.
And although, yes, I wish I could be down there wherever they are, participating in what normal teenagers do. I cannot, because I am a monster they’ll be able to see straight through. They’ll recognize me by the guilt that contorts my face and the darkness that betrays my natural light blue eye color. They will not see the real me. They will not see Emily Castle, seventeen year old girl with no place to call home and no control over the monster within her. Instead, they will see the me I have grown up fearing. They will see the me I wish I could burry away and never have to be again. They will fear me because of who I am and what I’ve done. They will fear me even if they thought the apocalypse was a fascinating destructive force of several natural occurrences. They will hate me because they were wrong.
My name is Emily Castle, and I am the apocalypse that destroyed the world.
This short story was brought to you by Jinapher J. Hoffman for her Short Story Thursday segment. All rights are reserved to the author. If you wish to share the story, all credit for the writing must be given to Jinapher J. Hoffman. Thank-you for reading and be sure to come back on Thursdays for more short stories by this author.