The Loop

This is my short story submission for the WoW Gstaad August 2024 Young Writer´s Competition which came first place for my age category! The theme was thriller… so read at your own risk….

Photograph by Ben Sweet on Unsplash

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As Detective Velia Price opened her eyes, she didn’t know what to expect. But she sure

as the devil didn’t expect to find herself hanging, one-armed, from the branch of a tree

crackling with flames.

Velia was known for her daring tricks and stunts. But, as she smelled the thick, wildfire

smoke, and saw mammoth trees crumble to ashes, she had to admit she was in a bit of

a predicament. Her arm ached as the fire danced, threatening to singe the ends of her

skirt.

Right then, she thought, and let go of the branch.

Velia dropped to the ground and began crawling, trying to avoid the smoke. Her lungs

burned anyway. Finally, after an eternity inching through ashen soil, Velia reached a small

stream. She ran across it, until the fire became a distant orange glow. She stumbled to a

halt, gasping for breath. Her mind began to clear, along with her vision and lungs.

She knew who she was. Detective Velia Price. Born in London, 1832. Sworn to dismantle

the city’s criminal underworld. Velia just couldn’t remember how she had ended up in a

burning forest.

She gave herself a pat down, taking stock of her arsenal: her trusted Webley Revolver, a

knife, and a set of lock-picks. Feeling reassured, Velia set off to the outskirts of the woods,

hoping to find answers.

A few minutes later, she stumbled across a cobbled path. Before she could take another

step, Velia froze. Something had just moved through the trees.

She crouched down. Silence fell. Velia reached for her revolver and almost fired as the

shadow inched closer, revealing the outline of a person. A woman came to stand atop the

path, her back to Velia.

Criminal, she thought instinctively. That woman, clad in black was a criminal. One Velia

was hunting for.

She burst out from the greenery; arms reaching in attempt to tackle the crook to the

ground. But, just as her fingers grazed the criminal, the woman bolted. Cursing, Velia

sprang up and began the chase.

She struggled to pump her legs faster, wind biting at her cheeks. Her chest heaved as she

ducked under extended branches and jumped over twisted roots. Velia grinned. She

never did feel more alive than when on the run.

The criminal had already reached the edge of the forest, where a stone village lay. To

Velia’s surprise, the woman slowed down and began walking through the town. Keeping

to the shadows, she stalked the criminal into a small building, up a winding staircase,

and into a room.

A gloom had settled, plunging the world in darkness. Velia’s head began to throb, and she

stumbled. A shadow stirred. Without thinking, Velia aimed her revolver, her hand shaking

as her headache deepened. Her finger found the trigger.

All at once, light shone from the window, illuminating the figure. The woman’s form

sharpened, revealing green eyes, ebony hair, and sand-kissed skin. Velia gasped as she

stared at herself.

Those were her eyes, her hair, her skin. That was her face.

But Velia’s finger had already pushed the trigger. She cried out and cocked her gun to the

side just before the bullet shot into the air.

The bullet grazed past the woman’s face, missing. Velia dropped her gun to the ground,

her whole body trembling. The woman hadn’t moved an inch, as if frozen in time.

Velia’s vision swam, her thoughts a twist of knots. Suddenly, a deep voice rumbled in the

air, coming from all sides.

My dear. A millennium you have been playing this game. And yet, never have you

forced yourself to miss.

The words echoed through Velia. Memories drowned her. That woman hadn’t been a

criminal. She was Velia’s twin sister, Luce. Perfect Luce, who always looked out for the

street urchins and beggars, even when her own family was destitute. Velia had stepped

in to save them from the streets. She had joined a gang. Robbed a bank.

Velia threw up. She remembered.

She was no detective.

She was the criminal.

I always did find that curious. Convincing yourself you were a detective. I suppose

you had to cope somehow. With your murder.

Velia felt her heart rip.

She remembered.

She remembered coming home, drunk on gold and liquor. She remembered waving her

pistol as if it were a banner of victory. She remembered Luce, frowning. A gun firing.

Luce on the floor.

That had drawn Velia out of her drunken stupor. And then, she had shot herself. And now…

“Who are you?” Velia repeated.

I’m God, and you’re dead. As punishment for your actions, you’re in the Loop. Forced to play, over and over, your worst memory. As is just.

Velia’s vision faded. She lost consciousness.

As Detective Velia Price opened her eyes, she didn’t know what to expect.