"The Ultimate Sin"

As requested, here is a piece I wrote in 11th grade U.S. history. 'Nuff said.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the outside world as the rain pelted the window. Sitting at my bedside, biting my nails, I pondered an appropriate course of action. Something had to be done . . . and it needed to be done immediately! I knew then that only one of us would survive.

I hesitantly crossed the lonely, two-room apartment and withdrew a long carving knife from the kitchen drawer. The street lamp outside radiated a dull yellow light, which struck me sharply in the eye when it reflected off the hard steel. Anger and abhorrence raced through my body. I needed to rid myself of this madness that I had restrained for so long! Now, the dam was about to burst.

Shadows momentarily came to life as another flash of light struck in the distance. Without warning, the window flew open and let in a cold world of cruelty and despise. I couldn’t hear the thunder roar for my heart was throbbing ever so forcefully. Vivid images of what was to come ambled through my mind. I could visualize the entire crime!

Ever so slowly, and, oh, ever so silently I would creep. The knife, ascending above its target would glisten in the scarce light—the residue left from previous victims burning my nasal passages with satisfaction. With one swift motion I would be free. Free . . . from this gutting pain that had been held within!

But wait! My conscience throttled me.

Someone would be sure to notice! An icy chill raced up my spine. Every single hair on my back bristled as a gust from the open window rushed across my neck. I dashed across the room to shut it, dropping my weapon on the cold, tile floor. As if the window knew what abominable sin I was about to commit, it slammed shut, before I reached it, vibrating the streaked glass in disgust.

“I can’t stand it!” I screamed.

I was going insane. I needed to stop myself before I did something rash . . . but that was exactly what I had to do! I had to clear my mind! I returned to the kitchen, ever so silently. In an effort to soothe my nerves, I slowly filled a tall glass with milk. But as the cold, white liquid slid down my throat, my mind snapped!

There was no turning back now! I dropped the glass, still half-full, and lunged for the knife where it lay on the floor. My knuckles went deathly white when I clenched the instrument with both hands. The glass, shattering on impact, did not sway my concentration in the slightest. My bare feet, now bathing in a pool of whiteness, began to move. Slowly, I stumbled towards my victim. I could hear my adversary calling me, taunting me. It was either now or never.

Within seconds it was over. I don’t care what happens to me any more. The only regret that I have now is that I didn’t save any of the cake for later.