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The Death Assignment

Just when Bethany was ready for the holidays

By Ben WaggonerPublished about a year ago 3 min read
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Unbroken thunder rolled in the distance as heavy artillery continued to hammer defensive positions across the river in the eastern suburbs. Bethany watched the destruction from her family's fourth floor apartment, flinching with each major concussion. The adolescent brunette caught her dim, moist-eyed reflection gazing back at her as though from the blazing orange sky beyond the window. All of her most-loved places were being destroyed: her school, her favorite park, and the neighborhood just behind it, where her best friend lived. Used to live. Bethany couldn't bring herself to look toward that particular plume, the one that billowed upward from Eastwood Estates.

"Carly, Carly, Carly," Bethany whispered. "You were so young, so sweet and innocent."

An explosion near the stadium vibrated Bethany's window, and she bit her quivering lip. Burly home team players on a billboard leaned down to contemplate spreading flames that licked up the creosoted poles that supported them. Below, to her left, a car alarm sounded, announcing the column of tanks that emerged from State Street onto Riverside. The tanks rumbled toward the bridge and paused only briefly before turning and charging across it. Platoons of sorrel and chestnut centaurs wearing camouflage helmets and Kevlar body armor galloped alongside, ready to swing their assault rifles into action. Antiaircraft fire erupted from the mall parking lot a half mile to the south, transforming the sky into a surreal field dotted with smoky-white blooms. The river sizzled where shrapnel fell into it. Moments later, screaming, flaming griffins plummeted to the ground. One smashed the abandoned hot dog cart on the corner.

"You had to know it," Bethany moaned. "Of course the Ghoul would do this to us when we were least prepared and everyone was looking forward to the holidays!" A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't take this anymore. I'm not even in ninth grade yet."

The dull whump-whump-whump of an approaching helicopter penetrated her consciousness. A black, menacing gunship followed the river until it stopped and hovered almost directly in front of her. The wolfish side-gunner locked eyes with her. Instinctively, she jerked her yellow notepad up to protect her head and lurched to the floor behind her desk. Glass shards sprayed into her room. Bethany screamed.

"Stop!" Bethany rolled to her knees, crunching broken glass. Then she stood and squared herself in front of the splintered window frame. The acrid smell of the burning plastics factory washed in and made her eyes water. "Stop," she snarled with fingernails biting into the heels of her hands. "Not this. This is no good."

A light tap at her door drew her attention back to the interior of her apartment.

"What?" Bethany spat out.

Bethany's mom opened the door just enough to announce, "Your friend Carly is here. I told her she can stay to dinner if she wants." She cast a motherly glance around the room. "Have you finished your homework?"

"Almost."

"Pretty sunset," Mom remarked as she turned to go, allowing the door to swing wide.

Carly strolled in, followed by the aroma of curried chicken. She dropped her pink and gray backpack on the bed and sprawled next to it. "Have you written your story for Mrs. Gullman's Composition class tomorrow? I did mine before I came over. It only took me like twenty minutes. I wrote about a girl who adopts a puppy and discovers he can talk. Then they go shopping together."

Bethany eyeballed her friend. "A talking dog that shops? You're weird."

"Well, what do you have?" Carly jumped up and snatched Bethany's notepad. "This is blank. You haven't written anything yet?"

"No, I can't think of anything to write about that Mrs. Ghoul-man would find appropriate. This assignment is going to kill me. Tell me about your puppy story."

AdventureFantasyShort Story
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About the Creator

Ben Waggoner

When I was a kid, our television broke. My dad replaced it by reading good books aloud. He cultivated my appetite for stories of adventure and intrigue, of life and love. I now write stories I think he would enjoy, if he were here.

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Comments (2)

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  • Lori Lee Palmerabout a year ago

    Very well written and entertaining. I loved the surprise ending.

  • Cindy L Studemanabout a year ago

    Well done!

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