Shadows

• Niamh Gallagher, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

She slipped through the night, fast as the wind, yet as silent as a shadow. Her dark hair flew behind her as she ran, dodging the bodies that lay scattered on the weathered stone. She rounded the corner and froze. Her mouth open in a silent scream, as she saw the body that lay just a short distance from her. She checked to make sure no one was nearby before darting across the courtyard towards it. Kneeling, she brushed the hair from the face of the corpse. “Father?” she whispered, her voice cutting through the silence.
Suddenly, she heard a foot hit the ground behind her. She stood, spinning and saw him, the man responsible for all the corpses lying around the old castle. His cruel face was twisted in a smirk and in his right hand was a knife. The knife, now pressed firmly against her neck, surprised her and she coughed, struggling to draw a breath before trying to step away. Her father’s body tripped her up and she fell, hitting the ground with a thud.
Her attacker was taken by surprise and faltered. That split second was all she needed. She lashed out, her boot making contact with his knee. He cried out, a mixture of surprise and pain, as he fell and the knife slipped from his grasp. As he reached for it, the girl lunged, grabbing the hilt just as his fingers brushed it, and swung it round so that the tip was pointing against his throat. She pressed harder and his eyes glistened with fear. He tried, weakly, to grab her wrist, but she flicked her hand, pushing his down. She dug the knife in harder and he gasped, trying to draw air into his lungs. He was dying and they both knew it. “You haven’t won yet!” he rasped, lifting his hand again. “Oh, really?” the girl hissed pushing his hand back down. She released him and, as quickly as a cat pouncing, he clicked his fingers. Around them, corpses stirred, coming to life and staring at the two blankly. “Kill…..her…..” he breathed, his final order before he died. The undead advanced slowly and she spun around, looking for an escape route. A hand grabbed her ankle and she looked down terrified, into the eyes of her dead father. Another hand grabbed her shoulder and another took hold of her arm. She was outnumbered, about to be killed by a wave of monsters. The corpses surged forward and she let out a single scream. A scream that echoed on…