Does my short story sound like ';A'; material?

Pre-Ap english; Sophomore.





Does this sound like an A to you?





';Vendetta';


Whitney Claypool





A tear that wasn’t Luna’s streamed down her milky complexion as she lay crumpled and bloody upon the dance studio floor. Her auburn hair swept across the wood, soaking up most of the evidence of murder. With an alkaline taste on his tongue and the acrid smell of death in his nose, Artemis stooped down to the wintry dance floor. He picked up the only remnant of his past and present, but no longer his future. Luna, his twin, was dead - killed in cold blood. ';The Haven';, a grimy group of 24th Chromosome carrier killers, were behind the mystery the cops would soon overlook. Battle plans, weapons, and hovercrafts danced across the back of his swollen, bloodshot eyes. He lifted his sister up and turned to carry the carcass out the door, when his hip hit the old Spanish stand holding Luna’s prize possession: the indestructible crystal vase our mother gave her before she died. It was as if time had slowed down as the vase tumbled over the edge. Only this time, the vase shattered into a thousand pieces, cascading across the floor. Never before has the vase broken when it was dropped. Never before has the wrong twin been murdered.


The raging wind licked across my face as I stepped out into the desolate alley. The sky promised the fall of rain, sooner than later. As I walked toward the congested group of tourists and pedestrians, an audible hiss of “Morte,” was heard from behind one of the massive tubes that led to our recycling bins. “Death,” says Rye, as she steps out of the dark abyss, “is a cliché now-a-days. Punishment by injection is no punishment. It’s a coward’s way out.” She sneers her last sentence, taking in my protective stance from by the street. “How will you die, Artemis?”


The remainder of The Haven emerged from darkness that swallowed them whole. Among the elite group, Martin, Jane, and Damon stood before me. The portly one of the three, Martin, was shaking with anticipation for the next kill. His dagger shone with the blood of my sister, glistening under the pale moonlight. A strangled cry released from my sandpaper throat at the sight. I laid Luna on the cold street, taking my jacket off and wrapping it around her slim figure.


Martin lunged toward me with his inferior instrument of death. He sliced away, but his sloth-like movements allowed me to deflect the blows and stab him in his heart. Rye let out a strangled cry as she flew at me with everything she had. I removed Martin’s sword from his holster and met Rye’s with just barely enough time. In full attack mode, I lunged at her, pouring out all the hatred and loathe I felt for them. Metal struck, eliciting sparks from our force. Rye spun around and dived for my abdomen, but I was too quick. Taking advantage of her confusion, I used the fall to my advantage and lashed back out, slicing a huge long gash along Rye’s chest. Her clothing was in tatters, and skin covered in blood as she dropped to the ground.


My cry of glory was cut off short by an ear-piercing gun shot. Damon had shot Jane right in her head, laughing a malevolent laugh as he did it. His icy gaze met mine. “She was in the way! Besides, she couldn’t even kill your precious Luna. She couldn’t stand the sight of her. After all, you are-”


But he never finished his sentence. Instead, he hurled a pointed switchblade right into my liver, causing my vision to slowly turn black. There was a sweltering pain in my side that spread throughout my veins. It felt as if someone had lit my body on fire, scorching my insides and out as I fell to the earth. My piercing cry was drowned out by a loud ringing in my ears. Damon’s shoes clicked as he walked away from the alley, whistling to a foreign, yet familiar seven note tune.


My shouts came out as gasps as I lay frozen on the ground. The throbbing pain slowly subsided from my body and I was finally able to move. My movements were now facile, as if my 24th Chromosome had never been initiated. The lesion was now healed, no scar or blemish left in its place. I could taste the mellow and salty air around me, smell its fragrant aroma of life that came from the evening rain. My senses were heightened; everything was. I smiled to myself as I realized that, even though Damon was still breathing, so was I. I, Artemis Lyron Pentsly, was now immortal. But my grandeur was short lived as reality came back into focus. Luna needed a proper burial.


I carried my sister into the dark alley way, not looking back at the bodies that led to her death.Does my short story sound like ';A'; material?
Yes. That is stirring and disturbing. I was so upset! And it was exciting. Your choice of language is excellent, and I enjoyed all the sensory images you portrayed (eg: fragrant aroma of life that came from the evening rain...someone had lit my body on fire, scorching my insides...) The opening image of a dead dancer with her hair spread across the floor was heartwrenching.





Excellent job. I hope you get published some day!