Left For Death

• Shade Doyle, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2013

We hike through the bush, pushing aside branches and tripping over logs. I am tired. So tired, my body feels like it’s been pounded with a sledge hammer repeatedly. My mouth is dry and my throat sore. My mum, dad and twin sister Scarlett look as tired as me. My shirt gets snagged on a thorn bush, and I trip. Sharp thorns dig into my flesh, leaving long, wicked scratches, and my shirt is torn to shreds. I’m beyond caring. My mum pulls me out of the bush, and we forge onward. I don’t know who or what we’re running from. About five weeks ago our parents told Scarlett and I to pack some clothes and sleeping bags, and that we had to leave. The meagre supply of food we had ran out 3 days ago, and the water ran out this morning. I run my parched tongue over my teeth, wishing for it to rain. Of course, it doesn’t. Tall gum trees tower above us, and dried leaves cover the ground. Bushfire season. Anyone with an ounce of sense stays away from the bush at this time of year. Deadly snakes, venomous spiders and hungry dingoes are everywhere. I’m not completely sure my parents are sane. Every time my sister and I ask what we are running from, we get the same answer. Death. I shudder, fearing the unknown.
Several hours later, night begins to fall, and we stop to make camp. Spreading my sleeping bag on the stony ground, I wonder how long until we all drop dead of exhaustion, dehydration or hunger. Not very long, I’m guessing. That’s if something doesn’t eat us first. I pull my thick coat from my bag and pull it over my tattered clothes. It’s going to get cold tonight. Despite my fear, hunger and pounding head, I fall asleep the minute I close my eyes.
A numbing, bone chilling cold wakes me. It seeps into my bones and freezes me in place. I can hear my parents and sister screaming, agonised, blood curdling screams. All I can see is a patch of dirt and stones. I try to move, but it feels like icy tendrils of mist have wrapped around me, binding my arms and legs. My vision goes blurry around the edges, and my ears ring with my families screams...
I sit bolt upright and dry-retch. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I realise its morning. I scramble out of my sleeping bag and crawl on all fours towards where my sister’s body should be. Her eyes are glassy and stare sightlessly at the trees above. I reach out a hand to touch her, and her flesh crumbles on contact. I draw back my hand. “No, no, no...” I sob, crawling from one family member to the next. Their all the same, as if the cold has drawn out all the moisture in their bodies. I sob endless tears. I feel icy tendrils of mist wrap around me, and know I have been left for death.