Touch of Death

Others Stories | Jan 13, 2012 | 4 min read
4 Votes, average: 3 out of 5
Others Stories

Touch of Death

It was one of those days when you wanted to crawl back in your bed and never come back out. It was my 14th birthday, which made it worst. I had been awoken by a tray of mushy pancakes and a glass of room temperature milk being placed upon my lap. My parents sang a monotone "Happy Birthday" and placed a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a cream color string on my night stand before walking out of my bedroom and shutting the door behind them. I attempted to eat the so called "breakfast" which looked as if it had been made last night. After I managed to choke down a few bites I got out of bed and started to get ready for school. Please, don't let it happen today I prayed.

It was going well until third block. I had lost control. I was sitting in the very back corner of the class room, the teacher was lecturing us about some Roman battle, and the bell would ring in nine minutes. Then I would be free, but no. I had dropped my pen on the floor, it rolled under Derek's desk. He looked back at me, then picked up the blue ballpoint and handed it to me. Our hands slightly touched, Derek gasped in horror, the whole class looked back at us and the teacher stopped talking. Derek's hand looked as normal as ever, but he instantly felt the pain. The pain of death. His hand tensed, he let out a yelp. His hand went limp, and became the color of lifelessness, a light gray. He fell out of his chair and started crying. The students gasped and looked at me in shock. The teacher grabbed the phone to dial the nurse.

God, I hope I didn't kill him, I thought. He was such a nice guy. Why did this happen to me every year on my birthday? Why do I have the touch of death? I had even killed my real parents on my first birthday, they gave me a big hug, and well you can understand the rest. I couldn't escape this evil curse and it was only 4pm, and I already had my first victim. My 7th set of foster parents were the ones who finally realized they couldn't hug me, hold my hand, or even pat my head on this day. They had known for seven years, and tried to accept it. But they ended up hating me. The worst death was my four  best friends. It was my 12th birthday. They didn't know, they came up behind me and gave me a huge hug. That was my worst birthday, I had to watch their expressions change from confusion when I pushed them away. And Then pain.  I walked out of the classroom, already knowing Derek's fate, tears rolling down my face. I went to my locker to grab my books and accidently bumped into my friend from P.E "Oh, sor-" she stopped halfway and fell to the ground. She let out a scream of horror, and I ran out of the school balling my eyes out. I ran to the park and sat on a lone swing. No one else was at the park, all the other kid's were still in school. I started humming, trying to lighten the mood but failed. I kept stopping to wipe the tears out of my eyes and sniffle. I felt a small drop of water in my hand. It started raining. At least now if anyone came I could hide my tears of shame. I sat there in the rain for an hour until I decide to go home. My foster parents were at work and wouldn't be home until late. On this day they tried to stay away from me the most. When I got home I went into my pale, plane room and laid on my bed. The small brown package on my night stand caught my eye. I grabbed it. Examining the cubed box in my hands I noticed a small note on the bottom. It said, "Only for the worst." What could that mean? I didn't know, but I wanted to so I reached out of my desk drawer and took out my pocket knife. I was about to cut the string, but my phone rang. It was a restricted number so I didn't bother. But it rang and rang again, well it must be important, I thought. I picked up the dark purple cell phone, and answered with my usual "What?". "You will kill everyday." the distorted voice said from the other end. I hung up the phone and cried myself to sleep even though it was only 6pm. I had killed more than a dozen people and I was only 14.

In the morning I awoke with joy. It was over, I had survived yet another birthday! I jumped out of bed ran into my foster parents room. "It's over!" I screamed. I jumped up on to the king sized bed and gave them both giant hugs. I ran to get the package and open it with them. But when I came back, they both were consumed by that familiar grayish tone. "No, no! Mom! Dad!" I screamed. But there was no response. The phone call was right. I had killed today. The curse must be everyday now. "Oh god," I mumbled while tearing up. I sat in between my parents in the bed, and put their arms around mine. I slowly opened the package and inside was a full bottle of pills. On the pharmacy label, it read "For Depression". The last thing I remember was seeing through my blurred vision, was an empty bottle of Depression pills.
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Reviews

Akira Mar 30, 2012

I really liked this story

Preeti Jan 27, 2012

such a great story...

Amit Jan 16, 2012

Great story. Very well Written!

Amit Jan 16, 2012

i love this story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sky Jan 18, 2012

thank you! one of my best stories ive wrote.. and i havent wrote alot (im only 12)

Geeta Jan 16, 2012

I like the way you have written the story..

Rimzhim Dang Jan 15, 2012

good work...

Sky Jan 18, 2012

thank you

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