Plot Twist: The Story

A Story by Blake Kairos

A Story in 3 Sections, each better than the last.

This is a Title

“Damn.” I cursed under my breath. I stood up from the log I was sitting on and turned to my comrades. “Alright!” I yelled so every soldier could here me. “Here’s the plan.” I described the invasion mission to the troops while pointing at the map to show direction. We were out-numbered, tired, hungry, cold, and with the odds out of favor for our victory. However, the stakes were even higher than that; if we lost this battle, we lost the war.

The next morning, we went out in stealth. I gave a confident nod to the armoured man next to me as a signal to start. He went out and stabbed the two guards in front of the enemy camp. He glanced back at me. I nodded in approval. Then, we went in.

I cocked my gun and showered the area with bullets, killing many enemy soldiers. I laughed internally as I assumed victory might actually be in sight this time. I glanced over at my troops, who also seemed to be doing unusually well. However, the enemy forces soon retaliated. Troops came out of protected tents bearing their own automatic assault machine guns.

“Go, go, go!” I screamed at my troops, my enthrallment melting into horror, and annoyance. Watching everyone falling filled me with rage. “Come on!” I screamed at them. “Get your head on straight and fight!”

Noticing we were about to lose, I threw myself back into the fray. I pressed the trigger and spun around to prevent people from getting close to me. Somehow, I was shot. Confused at where the bullet could have come from, I fell, slowly on my knees, then on my side, sprawled like a ragdoll. In my penultimate moment, I saw my sniper raising his gun in celebration before he too was strewn to pieces by stray bullets. Then, everything went gray, and I could hear raining in the distance.

***

Cut to my friend, Steve, taking mirth at my misfortune.

“Dude!” he exclaimed between gasps and fits of mockery, “You’ve got to be the absolute worst at this game!”

We were at Steve’s house, eating pizza, drinking soda, and playing video games. I had just lost for the umpteenth time too many, and was cycling into losing my cool. Both of which he took amusement from. After my rant of how I wasn’t my fault I lost the game, �"”The controller was broken!”�" I took a deep sigh. I was tired. I looked at my phone, 2 past 12 am.

“Has Lucy texted you yet?” Steve asked. I put my phone down.

“No.” I sighed, melancholy.

“Hey man, don’t beat yourself up over it.” he grinned to ease my conscience. “She stood you up. You did nothing wrong.”

“That’s not it.” I explained, “I’m worried about her. She normally hovers over me like a hawk, always around or in contact with me.”

“Yeah that’s kinda weird. Take advantage of the break then.”

Holding back exasperation, I replied, “It’s not that simple. It doesn’t make sense for her to just disappear like this.”

“Maybe she never existed and you’re just crazy.” He smiled. I stopped for a moment, noticing he was trying to cheer me up in my haze, so I chuckled briefly to humor him. “No, but seriously dude,” Steve continued. “You’ll see her on Monday. I know you’re concerned, but you shouldn’t be. I’m confident that she even in the worse case scenario could kick a*s. Remember what she did to Cindy last Homecoming?”

“Yeah…” I beamed softly in the amusement the memory gave me. “She started a fight because she was being overprotective. It was funny.”

“Well, I think it shows that she cares more about you possibly even more than you care about her.”

“And what do you mean by that?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Never mind.” Steve replied. “I’m just saying she’s strong enough to take care of herself. Unlike you,” I could tell by his sudden smirk he was preparing a classic ‘Steve’ zinger. “You’re a wimp!”

After taunting me briefly, we both fell asleep on the floor. I was awoken suddenly by my cellphone vibrating violently next to my ear. I groggily �"and quietly�" moaned before checking it, squinting in the brightness of the screen. It was 13 past 3. I had received a text. My eyes widened and my weariness swept away when I registered who it was from. Lucy.

***

‘Follow my instructions’ it read. I hurriedly fumbled with a response like, ‘Where are you?’ or something before a new message interrupted saying not to respond, only to read and understand. I could assume by the way the next texts came out they were precontemplated. She texted me instructions. I scrolled to the top the list and frowned. The first step simply, ‘Climb the stairs’.

Confused on what to do, I considered waking Steve. However, I decided against that when a new text read, ‘Hurry’. My preconceptions of her having an ill fated accident resurface as I bounded up the stairs to the house’s ground floor. Reading the next step, a chill of apprehension and doubt spider webbed through my whole body. ‘Remember the red handled knife on the kitchen counter’ A knife? I didn’t even need to think to comprehend where this could be going. I gulped.

Entering the kitchen, the red was the only color amongst the black of the night lit room. Approaching, I could make out the finer details. At the counter, beholding the bladed weapon, I stopped. Danny. My name was carved into the side of the handle. After an eternity of hesitation, my phone buzzed once more. A new text: ‘Do it, don’t keep me waiting’

I picked up the knife.

Step three: ‘Iscalate che staurs’ Not recognizing the typos, I cautiously obeyed the instruction to ‘Escalate the stairs’.

The stairs creaked as I rose. Further and further, breath by breath; the tension grew, irritating my eyebrows. My fingers quivered ruining any chance at gripping the railing. Finally, I conquered the unusually mountainous staircase and stopped. I waited. Nothing happened. Silence filled the air. Though I had been here before, the familiar place was submerged in a foreign dread. I checked the phone. Step four read: ‘Turn left’. As I was, a peculiar urge seized my thoughts �"Turn right.

I took two steps before a new text buzzed loudly. Briefly stunned by the sudden break of quiet, I juggled my phone, failing to secure it. It tumbled away from me clattering on the floor. I stood still in my stance, waiting to hear someone coming. When that didn’t happened, as it shouldn’t, I exhaled, relaxing and picking up the phone.

‘Why’d you disobey me’

I stilled for a moment feeling a prickling on the back of my neck. Was I being watched? My next movements were quick, large, and few. I bounded down the correct hallway, feeling the length being endless. Eventually, when I stopped feeling followed, I stopped, panting. Next and final step. ‘Turn and enter the purple door’

In Steve’s house, there are four bedrooms, one for his parents, one for him, and one for his brother. The fourth bedroom was completely coated in purple by the previous owners. Steve had told me they had a daughter who was bedridden. She tragically died at a young age, and he said her spirit haunts that room. As I turned, in the hallway, I came face to face with that purple door. I reached out, my other hand still gripping the knife, and turned the knob.

I entered.

Suddenly a black form lurched at me. Startled, I fell backwards and dropped the knife. It snagged my legs; I felt slender fingers pulling my ankles. In a final plea for help, I struggled, straining to grasp the weapon not only moments ago I loathed. My last sight was the light of my phone illuminating in the gloomy hallway buzzing with a new text. The door slammed, throwing me into darkness.

Moments later, a blinding flash lit the area. The room was empty. Then, from behind me, I felt a cloth cover my eyes. Before I could even shriek I heard a voice.

“Guess who!” It was Lucy, in her bright voice. She removed the cloth and tumbled forward on hands and knees, sitting in front of me. Smiling, an unnerving cheeriness about her, she then tackled me, hugging me around the neck, and then pinning me to the ground. I was too exhausted to struggle. “You passed!” She said, and kissed me on the cheek.