2024 Story Collection

How a Bad Girl, Nerd, Goth, & Quinceañera Princess Saved The World

They stood on the edge of the roof, hand in hand. There were police sirens blaring and a helicopter overhead, a spotlight trained on them. There was a muffled voice giving them instructions they were ignoring to the fullest.

Sheryl looked to her left. The girl she'd met only a few hours ago, Joann, stood beside her. Her left hand holding the bloody ax she'd used to decapitate the head of the security downstairs. Her body was covered in layers of black fabric and lace. Her long back hair was tied back in a perfect ponytail, not a hair out of place. Her makeup made her deathly white skin looked even paler because of the contrast. Her dotted eyebrows were perfectly symmetrical. Her eyes were lined in black, her black lipstick still perfect and her ridiculously long lashes still fully attached. She was unmarked from the battle they'd just fought. Her jewelry hung elegantly from her neck and the rings on her hands were all perfectly complementary. All around her, crows circled. They listened to her and understood her like magic. A huge raven was perched on her shoulder, glaring at the helicopter.

Sheryl then looked to her right, at the other girl she'd met on the subway, Irene. She was covered in blood, so much so that it dripped from her dress, hands, and face. Under it, she wore a tiara on her head that was slightly askew. Her hair was a blond rat's nest, no sign of the perfect curls. Her heavy but perfectly done makeup was now smudged from tears, sweat, and blood. Her lashes were long gone by now, and one of her earrings had gotten lost in the fight. Her white and pink quinceañera dress, once spotless, was now stained red from blood and ripped, exposing her tanned leg. Some of the jewels sewn into the layers of ruffled fabric had come loose and were barely hanging by a thread. In her right hand, she still tightly gripped her grandmother's crucifix. Under her breath she whispered prayers in spanish.

Then there was Sheryl. She wore no makeup unless you counted chapstick. Her hair was a curly, frizzy mess and made her look a bit like a clown due to the golden-red color. She wore a pair of old jeans and her lucky shirt. It was a nice collared shirt she'd worn when she got a 100% on her SAT. Her thick glasses were broken but still hung off her nose thanks to some of her brother's electrical tape she'd 'borrowed' and wrapped around the middle. Her shoes were practical as much as they were sentimental, black comfortable platform shoes she'd inherited from her grandmother. Her backpack was secured well to her back, the computer she'd used to hack her way into this mess sat inside next to her homework that was due tomorrow as well as her applications to her dream colleges she'd printed out to go over just one more time before submitting them. She was also covered in blood, though not as much as Irene. Just dots and splatters here and there.

How had everything come to this? She wondered as they all stepped up to the ledge, hand in hand. How had they ended up here?

She felt Joann squeeze her hand. She looked up at the tall girl. Joann smiled wide, a manic, crazy smile as if saying we did it.

Sheryl returned the manic smile, adding a laugh that bellowed from her in such a way that made the murder of crows scatter.

She glanced over at Irene.

Irene looked at the two with tears in her eyes. She smiled a bittersweet smile. It was bittersweet. This whole situation.

When everything had happened, they'd known they had two choices, while everyone else chose the first one. They'd chosen differently. She was glad for it. All four of them were.

"Everything's set up," Naomi said, squeezing in between Sheryl and Irene. They let go of eachother and took Naomis hands.

Naomi, much like the others, had blood on her hands. Her leather jacket was old and worn and hid the blood well, but not completely. Her face, bare of makeup but dripping in sweat. Her skin was a light brown and flawless. She had no pores and no blemishes. Her eyes were covered with old vintage sunglasses. Her long black hair was braided down her back and her lips were red from the lipstick she'd stolen on their way here. Her once white t-shirt was now splattered in blood and her light wash Levi's were too. Her belt buckle was a big silver piece with a snake, a ruby for its eye. Her boots were these black platform wide heel ankle high things that made the short girl almost the same height as the others. She had a few tattoos that peaked out from under her clothes as well as a few piercings, notably on her nose and tongue. Her animal sidekick, that had saved them a few times, Aurthur, slithered his way around her neck, bringing his head to her ear as if to whisper something to her. He was a huge king cobra that loved Naomi and hated anyone or anything that tried to get close to her without her permission.

Sheryl pulled her arm up to look at her watch.

"We have 30 seconds," she yelled.

"I can't believe we actually pulled this off," Naomi says with a smile. The others nod.

"Now we just have to trust that we all did our parts," Joann says.

"I can't believe this is happening," Irene yells out.

"It's time," Sheryl says. "On three." Joann squeezed her hand.

"One," she squeezes Naomi's hand. She hopes she passes it along to Irene.

"Two," a big gust of wind hits them, making them almost fall back.

"Three," they jump, hand in hand, off the 115 story building. Hurtling toward the ground as everything around them goes black.

To be continued...

March 20, 2024