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The gate

A fiction story

By Ankitaa ArunPublished 2 months ago 3 min read

The Gate

I stood there, my mind trying to process the view in front of my eyes.With every angled view, different memories swam into my head. The gate, made of steel and covered with bright blue paint, was now a dilapidated piece of scrap. Its colours were now a faded, ugly shade of what seemed like blue with black and dust.

“25 years,” exclaimed Amyra, “25 years of standing. I’m getting cramps for standing 2 minutes straight and this bad boy has been standing for 25 years.” I chuckled at her response and slightly nudged the gate with my fingertips.The gate swung open, revealing the treasure it was protecting. I wouldn’t call it treasure after 25 years unless it was something that would forever be called upon with awe and gratitude. “ Our school. Amyra, can you believe we wandered about these grounds while playing pranks and tricks on Miss Granola?”, I asked. She swiftly nodded sideways and returned her gaze back to the once crowded Bloomsbury primary school.

We set foot in it once again where now, there was nobody except us. Miss Granola, our principal, would have never had expected our arrival. She would have definitely said, “ Well , what dhoo we have heere? The legendary Stickysters themselves! Please thell me you ‘ave changed your name!” I finished that thought with the opposite feeling from before. A tornado erupted and swirled inside me. I knew I was feeling guilty again. Guilty from a big mistake.The biggest, I would say. On headlines it would have probably stated, “The murderer of a wonderful principal.

Amyra knew I was going through my ‘flashback’ once more. She knew but she remained silent knowing that it would bring me to tears.

My neatest prank in a lifetime , to brag. I had a bag full of clay, this random, disgusting looking liquid that I found in the laboratory and a few melted marshmallows. I reminded myself that I knew that I would get detention but simply knew that it was worth it. The bag of doom, I called it, would be perfectly situated in Miss Granola’s coffee mug and when she drinks it, she would vomit and will look absolutely hilarious! Amyra, my 5 year old partner in crime would at so nice to our principal and would offer to help clean her mug and that’s when my malicious plan would be placed into action.

The morning passed and within a couple more minutes, I had the mug. I placed my bag in it and put the bag on my principal’s desk. In a hour or so, Miss Granola entered the room. My toes became all tingly and my stomach full of butterflies. Miss Granola tipped the mug in to her mouth and… died.

She choked on the marshmallows and her mouth burned in what seemed acid. She collapsed and I froze and fainted.

I immediately returned to the real world, the minute I saw the cold, dry stare of Miss Granola, laying on the floor with teachers surrounding her. Without thinking, I ran and ran out of the school building and stopped in front of the gate. I slammed it shut and with tears pouring from my face, I had one last look of the school.


About the Creator

Ankitaa Arun

Helloo!! I love writing fiction and love sharing them with others. I found Vocal and was like cha-ching! Make sure you read all my posts and like and comment on them! Love yall!! stay safe

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  • Sowmya Rajendran2 months ago


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