Yumi Turns Evil

Two girls of about eight crouched on a wide gravel drive in front of a stately home. It was summer, so both were in light dresses, but it was a rather breezy day. On this Friday afternoon in August, most people were at work. The lonely lawn sprinkled with clusters of clover suddenly felt sad and a little bit creepy.

One of the girls suddenly stood up, rubbing her arms to try to protect them from the cool breeze.

"It's Cold," she complained. Can we go inside now?"

"No, wait," the other replied. "I'm nearly finished with this beetle." She abandoned the small stick she had been working with and stabbed at something with her finger. "Got it!"

"C'mon, I want to go inside now," the first girl said firmly.

"It's always what you want. Well, I want to play checkers."

"No! We'll go inside, but not to play checkers. I just need to get something. Sticks don't work to smash bugs." The second girl stood up and wiped her finger on her skirt, then ran inside the house. The first girl followed her, leaving the big green door wide open.

A few minutes later, they emerged, dragging a long leather case. The second girl tucked a chestnut curl behind her ear and knelt on the ground to open the case.

"Yumi, why do you want to smash bugs anyway?" the other girl asked. "They're not creepy. And they never killed you, so why do you have to kill them?"

"Shut up," Yumi said flatly. "Bugs are bad. They bite you when you sleep." She went back to undoing the straps around the case.

"But"

Yumi flipped the lid up and started to undo the velvet coverings.

"Is that a sword, Yumi?" the other girl gasped in shock.

Yumi nodded. "It's my father's sword. He got it for a present from the Duke of England. It should work better than a stick for smashing bugs."

"No. No. Put it back, please put it back," the other girl pleaded. "Your father's going to be mad if it-"

Yumi paid no attention and lifted the sword out of its case. The steel glinted maliciously in the sunlight, and the emeralds set into the hilt twinkled teasingly, daring her to swing it.

"No, Yumi put it back, please. It's going to get dirty or break or something!"

"You're such a sissy," Yumi said scornfully. "It isn't dangerous."

"Yes, it is. Put it back!"

"No, of course not. We take fencing, and those swords aren't dangerous."

"Those are rubber swords. This one's sharp. It could hurt people! Please, Yumi. It has to go back!"

"You're boring, you know," Yumi replied conversationally. "I don't think I want to be friends with boring people."

"Put it back!" the other girl shrieked. She wasn't listening to a word Yumi was saying. Her whole mind was concentrated on one single idea: get away from the sword. Somehow, she had fallen to her knees and she scooted backward on her hands and feet.

Yumi swung the sword experimentally. It whistled smoothly through the air with perfect balance. She looked at the other girl, crouching on the driveway with an expression similar to that of an intelligent deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes flicked from the girl to the sword and back again. She grinned evilly and stepped forward.

"No!" the girl shouted desperately with all her power. "Don't!"

Yumi lifted the sword above her head.

The other, lying on the gravel, saw Yumi standing above her. Her eyes followed the sword as it swept down and bit into her stomach, then her arm. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, trying to ward off the excruciating pain in every molecule of her body. The pain wrapped itself around her, sealing her in a cocoon of agony and despair. The girl's eyes darted without command to her stomach, and she found new voice to scream and cry as crimson blood poured through her dress. The last thing she remembered before the world darkened was Yumi's face, bending over her own, laughing!