𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞?

-

It’s the same nightmare! Every time I see her ascending the stairs to that picturesque but haunted palace. Extreme fear floods my body coursing through every vein, bone and organ as I see an ominous ray of light glinting on her lustrous mane.

Earnestly trying to restrain my demons, I yelled within 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑛, 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢? Untying myself from all maladroit thoughts, I felt a one tear trickle down. Nebulous layers of emotions, has forever smothered our lives.

She’s been smart since our childhood days. Scathing comparisons with my little sister have always shown me where I belong. Grisly hell it is; where I always meet my rock bottom self. For a moment, I feel at ease as muffled high-pitched screams rent the air. Rapidly flowing blood carpets the stairs trailing her fall.

Locating my senses, I find myself chained to the bed frame as my electroconvulsive therapy is on. Nonetheless, I try to mollify the colossal sob building up in my chest. The free-floating anxieties that once crippled me are nowhere to be seen.

Now the question that now plagues me often is 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑒?

 

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note: The above story was a winning entry for a contest that required to write a piece of prose or poetry in which every sentence/line begins with the last letter of the previous sentence/line.

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