S H O RT S TO R I E S F R O M T H E G LO B A L C LA S S R O O M |
2014
The demon’s hand shot out, twisting in a circle. The necklace her mother wore coiled, spiraling from the command
given, until it choked her. Her eyes bulged, and watching her struggling for breath, Jasmine felt a sick sense of
pleasure. She jerked her hand, and the chain yanked backwards, cutting deep into her mother’s neck. She collapsed
on the ground, dead.
Foolish girl. You think you can withstand me? Me? The voice shrieked in her head. Your small willpower won’t last
forever!
It wouldn’t, Jasmine realized. There was only one way to stop the demon. It would never stop unless it had absolutely
no chance. She reached for a knife that lay on the counter, knowing it was her only shot at destroying it.
Don’t worry, Jasmine, she told herself weakly. This won’t hurt a bit. And with a deep breath, she plunged the knife in,
jerking it out with her last bits of strength, watching as blood gushed from the wound. Her hand went limp, letting
the knife clatter to the floor. She felt the darkness closing in, only to be chased away by a blinding white light. And
then there was nothing.
It didn’t hurt a bit.
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