Waiting

• Brenda Truong, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

It was pitch black outside. Angry clouds had blocked out any light that the moon gave off. There was no light in that small town except for the dim street lights. They flickered eerily in the wind. Thunder roared and even their soft glow vanished. Lightning flashed purple across the sky as the clock struck twelve. The sound diminished by the bellowing thunder.

The wind picked up. It was getting chilly, but the young girl didn’t seem to mind. As she glided gracefully through the woods, the leaves on the trees rustled and the woodland creatures scurried hurriedly back into their sanctuaries. She continued on, ignorant of the raindrops coming down hard and splattering onto her smooth pale-white skin, soaking her long black dress. Her blood-red eyes staring blankly ahead and her long, damp, black tresses fell past her shoulders sticking to her neck. She seemed to be waiting for someone, yet she ventured further down the path, making no noises along the way.

She halted when she came across an ancient tree with sturdy-looking limbs and lifted her head. After a slight pause, the young girl climbed swiftly up the tree, from one branch to another until she reached a bough that shaped like a seat, without so much as a scratch. That particular branch was roughly around halfway of the hundred-metre tall tree. This only took the fragile-looking girl five to ten minutes to climb to.

As she settled into the hollow of the bough that formed the seat, she peered past the branches and leaves to take a glimpse at the moon. The rain clouds that were blocking it seemed to have moved out of the way just for her to see, like servants would for their master. It was a radiant full moon tonight except that her shine was weakened by the stormy night. CRUNCH! At that very moment, someone had chosen to disturb her reverie. Despite the roaring of the storm, the girl could hear the crunching of the twigs and branches under the heavy treads of the very person she was waiting for.

Alas, he was here. And it was about time that he got here, he had promised to meet her in the middle of the woods at midnight, but it was now ten to one. He stopped when he was right under her and called out her name. She would have enjoyed it doing this the “nicer” way but right now she was hungry and tired of waiting. Just as the town clock struck one , she pounced on him like a hungry lion. Fangs protruded from her red lips and she bit deep and hard into his neck. A minute later, she lifted her head; her hair wild, her crimson eyes searching for more, blood smeared all over her beautiful face, blood dripping from those deadly white fangs and blood stained across her now-torn black gown. The boy laid in her arms, death-white, eyes and mouth opened wide in shock.

Brenda Truong
Year 9
Canley Vale High School