The Ultimate Deception

A couple of weeks ago, I was looking through my folder and I found a story that I wrote for my 9th grade english class. I don't remember what we had to write our stories on, and I don't remember the circumstances under which I made up this story called "The Ultimate Deception". But I guess nostalgia overtook my senses, and has forced me to put it up here on my blog. Hope you enjoy it...
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An eerie silence enveloped the house. The stairs groaned under my sneakers, while I stealthily treaded upstairs. My pulse quickened and my heart began to race. The only thing I could hear was the faint jingle of change in my pocket and the soft rustle of my pants. Where could he be? He should be at home by now.
I walked toward his bedroom and pushed open the door slowly. Everything was normal. I rushed toward my room and shoved the door open. Nothing was normal. Clothes were strewn across the floor. The lampshade was tilted and the bulb broken. Papers and folders were scattered everywhere. My throat was desiccated and arbitrary thoughts swiveled through my mind. What happened? Where was he? Did somebody kidnap him?
I hurried downstairs toward the phone. I picked it up and punched moms’ office number. It took me five seconds to realize that the phone had no dial tone. I smacked it down hard and picked it up again, half hoping that the firm hit would miraculously make it work. I was losing my train of thought and I had no idea what to do. I sprinted across the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom. I ran hysterically around the room searching for traces—of what? I looked under my bed, behind the desk and then I suddenly turned toward the closet. It was slightly open and a pale blue piece of cloth was protruding from the gap. I held out my hand and touched the knob. The cold feel of it was like an electrifying shock.
“Oh, please no…” I whispered to myself. I tugged the door open and suddenly froze before a grotesque sight.
He stood perfectly straight against the closet wall. His eyes were rolled far into his head. His face was pale and his lips were parted slightly. The left hand hung lifelessly while the other hand was twisted into a monstrous shape. Blood trickled out of a slit in his pale blue shirt and onto the floor where a glistening knife lay innocently smeared with blood.
A weak whimper escaped my throat while I stood rooted to the ground. Tears sprung into my eyes and blurred my vision when he suddenly dropped to the ground clenching his stomach and laughing shrilly.
“Oh, my camera… I should’ve… your face…so funny…you thought…I really… dead?” he gasped. Random words were flying out of his mouth while he cackled madly.
“Ray, if you don’t get out of my bedroom this instant then you’re really going to be dead!” I screamed, lunging forward to grab him. He ducked swiftly and ran out of the room flailing his arms wildly over his head like a barbarian.
I looked around the room and let out a long sigh. Why in world did I have to get stuck with such a brother? I was trapped in this world of immaturity forever. Everyday, the walls seem to be closing in inch-by-inch, till that day when I was probably going to snap under the pressure of his brainless shenanigans.
That was the first time that Ray pulled the ‘dead guy’ prank. The second time he did it was when he didn’t come home past his curfew and mom sent me looking for him…
I peddled across our deserted lane when, toward the end of the street, I stopped abruptly.
He was lying in a pool of blood right before my eyes. I dropped my bicycle and was about to run towards him, when I stopped myself.
“Ray! Stop it, okay? This is not the time to play one of your dimwitted pranks!”
No reply.
“Look, it’s nearly 9:00. We have to go home. Mom’s really worried!’ No reply.
I could feel the cold aura around him. I knelt down and shook him, making sure I rattled every organ inside his body.
No reply.
“Ray…” I whispered. I put my finger under his nose to detect any sign of breathing.
Nothing.
I pulled his chest to my ear, knowing that I’d definitely hear the sound of his heart.
Nothing.
“Ray, this is enough! Get up Ray!” I knew he wasn’t going to get up this time. I knew he wasn’t going start laughing or giggling. I knew he was dead.
I held him close, rocking him back and forth like he was little baby. Tears flowed down like a river and I screamed for help. The last thing I remember was a blur of blue and red lights flashing constantly and the soft murmurs of people who surrounded me…
The police said he slipped on the ice and probably swerved and hit the curb with his head. The doctors said he probably would’ve been saved if he wore a helmet. The neighbors said he was too young to die like that. I didn’t say anything.
It was just a matter of wearing a helmet, but he didn’t. He thought that he was the ‘cool’ guy if he didn’t wear a helmet. He thought that he was the ‘stunt master’ if he did dangerous tricks on his bike. He was just like any other kid.
Now, I walk toward his bedroom and push open the door slowly. Everything is normal. I rush toward my room and shove the door open. Nothing is normal. The clothes are neatly folded in the closet. The lampshade is upright and the bulb is not broken. The papers and folders are carefully stacked on top of each other on the desk. My throat is desiccated and imperative questions swivel through my mind. Why, Ray? Why didn’t you wear a helmet? If only you did. If only…