A girl to End it
A girl with a shotgun
A sixteen-year-old girl stands in front of him, her smoking gun still in her hands. She looks at him with an inquisitive face.
“Y-yes, thank you. I don’t know what that old woman wanted from me.”
“Can I have an autograph, please?”
“S-sure, young lady. How did you recognise she was an alien?”
“I watched the program “how to recognise an alien” on You Tumble. I’m sort of an expert.”
“Oh, wow. Perfect shot, that one. You’re good. What’s your name?”
“Ananke.”
“Ananke, what an unusual name for a girl. Do you want an autograph?”
“Yes! Could I please have it on top of the corpse? I will load it on my wheelbarrow. My friends will die of envy.”
“Sure, sure, here we are. You’ve earned it. Enjoy the Independence day!”
Just a flabby man
The girl watches the Head. It’s the first time she can stay so close to him. She watched him only from a distance, looking out some balconies or on TV. She also realises how flabby and sweaty he is for the first time. He’s still trembling while wiping the blood out of his face. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she feels pity for him. All that power and he’s afraid of a tiny old woman.
“Wait a minute. The alien was trying to remove something from the pocket. What was it? A weapon?”
The girl searches through the skeletal corpse with a disgusted face. The TV said aliens bring mortal illnesses.
It’s a letter.
“It’s a letter, Mr Head.”
“Well, well. A letter, how intriguing. Hand it to me and go play with your corpse. Again, have a good Independence day!”
The door remains open in a grotesque scene: a tiny girl tries to load a headless corpse on her wheelbarrow.
The Head starts closing the door, his facial expression changing into horror as he keeps reading, his hands shaking. Which kind of joke is that?
Then, he realised something.
There’s nothing else but terror.
He leaves the door open and runs.
Run!
He runs as if he’s never run before.
Run fast, with his belly up and down.
He bumps into the tyrant’s half-length statue, which crashes to the floor. In the room, the window is open, and there are few muddy footsteps on the white pavement.
In front of him stands the cradle. Empty.
And then the world is a nightmare.
And the world is distant.
And the world stinks.
He thought he was the master of time. But the time makes whatever it pleases.
While he falls on his knee, he starts shouting and crying. Despair, rage, confusion. As he was falling from the clouds. As he was one alien.
Falling over a mountain of pain and mud.
“Too late”, he thinks while his thoughts seem to dissolve.
“You stole our future!”
Shouts a voice behind him, full of rage.
The Head instinctively takes his favourite gun, Valkyrie, from the closet. He has never had a chance to use it before. He doesn’t even know how to shoot. He turns and sees an alien, a man covered in blood and mud. Victoria is in the hands of that alien, quiet.
Why she doesn’t cry?
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
The alien will be torn apart.
Instead, the alien speaks.
“You stole our future and now I’m stealing yours.”
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
“Shoot me, shoot me if you like it. This is a backup plan. We thought you would have listened to your Victoria, at least. That old woman did everything she could to save your life. Now you have a choice, your life or hers. You can kill her twice a single day, your precious Victoria.”
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
“Or else, you can take your own life.”
The alien must die.
The alien must suffer.
And suddenly, the Head knows what to do next. He points the trembling gun at the alien. He has the solution in his hands; he can feel the trigger, the cold gun in his arms. The alien closes his eyes, waiting for the shot.
“Blam!”
A fountain of blood and bone fragments saturates the room. On the floor lays the corpse of what remains of the People’s Head, his brain and blood mixed with the pieces of the statue.
The alien opens his eyes, incredulous. He didn’t expect that. The Head is lying dead on the floor, Victoria is crying in his arms. He cannot listen someone approaching, right behind him.
“Click.”
Behind him, the sound of a gun loaded.
He turns and sees a sixteen-year-old girl with a shotgun bigger than her.
“You’re an alien, right?”
She doesn’t have to wait for an answer. She knows how to recognise an alien.
“Yes, I am. You don’t have to do it. You can leave now and the entire destiny would be different. Let me go and…”
“Blam.”
Two corpses are now on the floor, and Victoria doesn’t stop crying. It’s impossible to recognise Victoria, covered in so much blood, in the alien’s arms. Future and present blood are mixed and they don’t seem that different.
“You aliens are all the same to me. I scored a point.”
On the Head’s left hand, there’s a letter:
“Grandpa, don’t kill me, please.
Let me explain.
I’m your V., from the future.”
The sixteen-year-old girl grabs her alien trophy and starts dragging him down the stairs.
“Go back to the future.”
The girl keeps mumbling to herself while Victoria cries and cries.
The End
This was A girl to end it, the end of Go back to the future, written by Daniele Frau and illustrated by Gabriele Manca, Dmq Productions. All the rights for the story and the illustrations are kept by the respective owners.
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