Pain Demands To Be Felt

• Breeanna Brookes, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

The beast roared, a fearful sound, menacing and dark, before taking a slow deliberate step forward. Gritting my teeth, I stood strong whilst my instincts kept screaming for me to run, I was certain I was going to perish here. What a fitting end, storm clouds rolling across the mountains, their lightning crackling ominously, perfectly describing my life. A soft gasp broke me out of my rumination, turning my head almost imperceptibly I cautiously started inching my hand behind me until I made contact with the child. Looking boldly at the beast I took in its features, there were humanoid hands that looked almost mangled and deep brown scratchy fur, its teeth were razor sharp and pearly white. But it was the eyes that made my breath hitch, for a split second its eyes, no HIS eyes gazed at me pleadingly as if begging me to understand before he looked down. When his head rose gone was the pleading. In its place was a cold, malicious hunger. I was terrified but I stood tall refusing to back down. Feeling the rock wall behind me slowly I found a gap barely large enough for a toddler but it would have to do. Using all my strength, I shoved the child into the crevice and launched myself at the beast. He swiped out a paw with lightning fast speed, embedding his claws into my side before retracting them just and quickly, sending my flying into a tree. I let out a wounded scream as my back collided with the unyielding bark of the pine tree. The beast lumbered forward and raised his hand high, preparing to bring it down across my throat. Gathering the last bit of strength I had, I grasped a stick and slammed it into the beast heart. He looked at my shocked before all life drained out and he slumped forward. I rolled to the side, gasping for breath, barely escaping behind crushed to death. I allowed my eyes to slide closed, before a little hand shook my arm, blearily I cracked an eye and found myself staring into the glistening ice blue eyes of the little boy. I had barely gained eye contact when he was yanked into the arms of a woman. She held him so close I was worried he would melt into her.
She looked at me so intently, it was as if she was staring into my very soul.
“Thank you” she whispered, her voice cracked from her tears, “You are a brave young man.” I winced at the raw emotion behind that statement. I realised that in some ways she was right, many would have run but I faced it head on. But she was also wrong, for I did not face the beast because I was wrong, no I faced the beast because I allowed the pain I had felt to bottle up and eventually it overflowed.
That’s the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.