Vihaan Jakhetiya, Class 9, JBCN International School, Mumbai

“Yes, that’s the key. We did it! Finally, I can rest now, “said Mr Shelby, the most famous scientist in the town. “Yes, agreed,” came the quiet, raspy voice of Lief Doyle, the aspiring scientist who had achieved much more than many experienced ones and was the start behind this whole project.

The project was to revamp further nuclear reactor fields and genetic mutation development for the benefit of all. This was one of the few projects where protest hadn’t started in opposition to this development for the fear of exploitation. And that was just because no one would have thought that this project would ever succeed given its complexity and the limited resources and technology provided. It was the 1900’s after all. Yet, they had succeeded. Never had they thought that they would stretch science to its breaking point and find out so much more than ever before? But every piece of information comes at a cost and this one bore a heavy cost. And no one knew it yet.

Both of them departed for their residence. Little did they know they wouldn’t reach there. It wasn’t any other day. Fungoid darkness had taken over the nightly realm making the stars dwindle, their lights fading, and the haughty clouds – minions of the devil – taking over and standing guard over the light. The streetlights shone like lighthouses guiding ships in the harsh seas, but even it would flicker out and die. Blame the energy supply cuts.

Mr Shelby walked down the winding streets to his house and saw someone out of the corner of his eye. It was as if someone was there, and then he wasn’t. The lights flicked on and off, and a silhouette could be made out when eyes were squinted. He was mostly a man, broad-shouldered and bald, sweat glinting on his pale, sunken cheekbones and his body covered in a long black overcoat, inside which there was another black shirt. His hands rested inside his coat and he gripped onto an object of sorts. His other hand was clenched so tight holding a “Bagh nakh” that he would perhaps cut his own hand. Mr Shelby whimpered, pleading and asking why he was doing it. He said nothing till he slashed forward and stood over Mr Shelby. “For the greater good, for the greater good, “he chuckled. Then, one final blow. It was over.

The same fate attended Lief Doyle, making headlines all over the newspapers around the world. But soon mysteries and stories arose of these killings. What had really caused it? Who killed them? Why did they do it? Was it because of the experiment? These questions ran through the mind of Shelby’s son. “I’ll have my revenge. Mark my words with blood. I will avenge it,” he said before being taken away.


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