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Writer's pictureOne TwentyOne

Fun Times

By Armani Callands, Virginia State University





You see, I got kidnapped tonight. By a cult. But they have no idea who I really am.


So, here I am about to be sacrificed on this dirty alter in this nasty, rat invested, dingy church like the virgin they believe me to be, with these angsty, pimple-faced teenage boys dressed in all black, worshipping a god whose favorite color is actually blue.


Little do they know what is yet to come.


The main leader turns to me and asks, “do you have any last words?”


"No, do you?" I reply, giving him a smile, which I know is creepy.


He ignores me and turns to his boys and they all start to chant in Latin about killing me. Meanwhile, I lean back and start to sing that old nursery rhyme, "Ring Around The Rosies," but slowly.


As the leader's little fan base starts to dance around us, he makes the first cut, on my wrist. He turns back to his followers and cheers. These fools are having so much fun worshipping a false god they don’t even realize my wrist has healed right back up. I continue to sing the song, slowly, slowly, and when the leader looks back at my face, I grin at him, flashing all my teeth.


“Time to spill the main course of the virgin blood, gentleman," he says, and he then proceeds to slit my throat. His boys cheer at the sight of my blood running down my body. Still singing, I get to the end part of the nursery rhyme and sit up just when the wound heals, making one of the followers throw up. Wuss.


After I sit up I smile again and kill every single one but the leader. To him I say, “I asked if you had any last words,” and then just as he starts to cry and pray for salvation, I slit his throat from ear to ear, splashing blood all over my face. I watch the blood pour from his mouth as the life dulls in his eyes.


When Hades shows up I'm mumbling to myself: “ I always hated to the feeling of fresh blood on my skin."


“What the hell happened here?” he asks incredulously, taking in the dead bodies and the blood all over my face.


“Nothing dear, except I added a few souls to the underworld. Lets go home, I'm in dire need of a hot bath” I say, taking his hand and interlacing our fingers. My husband flashes us home, but not before I burn the entire building down to the ground.


Oh, did I forget to mention my name was Persephone, Queen of the Underworld?



About the Author

Armani Callands, of Locust Grove , Virginia, is an English major at Virginia State University. Armani loves movies and hopes to pursue fiction writing after graduation.





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