Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

Sweet Ivory By Gina Nkwah

It was midnight and the town of Oxford was asleep. However, Ivory had just gone through the woods near her house, picking up any objects which represented a negative emotion inside her. After thoroughly concentrating on the object, she would transfer that emotion it. All of her negative emotions were suppressed because she didn’t want to know what would happen if she felt them.



When she reached the end of the forest, she gazed at the infusion of dark tones in the sky then began to make her way home by headed back into the forest. She relaxed at the familiar crunch of the fallen branches on the ground. Every part of her felt free.



Suddenly, Ivory abruptly stopped in her tracks. She heard another sound from the woods. Multiple tree-branch crunches could be heard, meaning there were other people in the woods. Ivory quietly moved towards the sound to see who the people were. When she had spotted the people, she hid behind the closest tree near her and stuck her head out to see what they were doing. She saw two hooded figures around her age circling around a little child who had short brown hair. A flash of silver suddenly came across her vision and she then noticed that one of them was holding a knife. Ivory quickly slammed one hand across her mouth, stopping herself from screaming, and for a moment she was stuck crouching behind the tree, her eyes silently spilling out tears at what she could see.



A heavy force took over her body, making her head hurt and her stomach boil. It was Anger. Anger, which she had desperately tried to suppress. She was weak at this point and decided to let it take over her, and when it did, the only thing she could ever remember from that night was seeing the bloodiest and thickest shade of pure red.



The next morning, a blinding white beam of light that shone on the wall in front of her bed woke up Ivory. She had no memory of last night but had slept peacefully. She got up to go to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Being in a sleepy daze, she was unfazed by her forehead that had dried up blood on it and her hair which was tangled with small twigs from the woods as she took a quick glance at herself in the mirror. She looked back into the mirror to brush her teeth and saw herself again and this time she gave a loud gasp and stumbled backward, bashing her head hard against the wall.

When the pain and the black dots had faded away, she walked back again to look at herself in the mirror. But this time she smirked. Trapped in the mirror and banging on it loudly was her old self. The one that represented her name.



“No-one will ever hear you, sweet Ivory. I’m going to run things now,” Ivory said menacingly to herself.


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