For #BlogBattle, I sometimes have a guest post from one of my favorite young writers. Previously, he’s shared as Anonymous. Of course, he has given himself a name for readers to call him by now. 🙂 Enjoy!
“As Hard to Find as a Clone in a Hoard of People”
By: Leif Jackson
The police searched frantically as the culprit slipped out of their hands. A clone, looks about 22 with short golden-brown hair. The clone was a clone of me, they were holding me until the clone committed another crime, this time the clone robbed a bank with no mask on. I knew the clone would never be identified, I mean, I created it as a spy to use against Spoltania. Spoltania has been our enemy since 3045 to now, their country rose from the ashes of China, Japan, Korea, and Taiwan. As the USA, as a whole, we voted as a democracy to declare war against those places in 2092. Clearly, we still stand, so that means we won the fight, but apparently we didn’t win the war, those areas formed Spoltania.
Back to this clone nonsense it is. This clone is stealing my identity and is robbing places, but it’s not taking the money, it’s just hacking the accounts on the bank database to practice its skills. But the weirdest thing is it took my identity, which means it thinks that I’m dead. So, I’m wondering myself, am I dead?
The annoyed officer walked in the door. “Fine! It’s not you!” He had a look saying that he’d hoped it was me.
“Told you so,” I said with the biggest grin on my face. “I don’t commit crimes.”
“You know I can still arrest you, big mouth,” he said with a bigger grin than mine. “Your boss is here.”
My boss walked in the door.
I gulped.
My boss laughed harder than I ever imagined was possible. “Want me to leave you here? You seem like you’re having a lot of fun with this officer here.”
“No, let’s just get out of here,” I said in an annoyed groan.
I got up and we walked out the door, I saw blood on the floor coming from a closet. I showed it to my boss. He just said not to worry about it. I worried, and I opened the door.
My boss’ dead body was on the floor. I looked back to my boss and finally saw the red tint in the eye; he was the clone.
My boss—er, clone-boss—pulled out a knife. “Guess you found me,” he said, “Now I have to kill you.” His voice sounded distorted. As he brought the knife up to kill me, a knife plunged through his gut, artificial blood spouted out of him.
The officer from before had saved my life from that clone
I collapsed to the floor passing out, I woke up in a bed and realized it had all been a dream. I was back to being 22 in Hawaii in 2029 living out my life as a scuba diver. All that dumb dream nonsense was over, and I was back to my ecstatic life at home.
Rachael Ritchey 
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