Sorry I'm Late

This is a short story I wrote for the Halloween competition.
It tells the tale of Archie, and the memories he can't forget. She won't let him forget. But who is she? And who's story really is this?


6. The End.

I had to look at my hand, I had to. I shrank inside as I read what is said. ‘Sorry, I’m late.’ I couldn’t breathe. There was something different. There weren’t 20 jars anymore. There was one more, and as I stepped closer, all pain I felt inside was silenced. The jar said: Archie. That is the last thing I remember.


“Mum?” The boy said, “Are those…are they…?” His mother laughed quietly. “Ashes? Yes? I burnt them. All of your little classmates – I’m sorry I’m late, Archie. But I did warn you. I’ve got 20 now, all stolen from the classroom by an innocent teacher. Me. And when I’ve got 21, I will be free, Archie.” I smelled smoke behind me, and saw red and yellow flames darting behind me, ready to make their move when ordered. “ These ashes contain what I need to be free.” She continued, “When I burn them…” And that was the boy’s last memory of his mother before the flames swallowed her.

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