Tension

• Marcus Barlow, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

It was a dark and lonely night, when I found myself alone in the cold space of a shopping center car park, waiting for who I thought was my mother to come and pick me up. I felt a chill down my spine as the red Volvo pulled up in front of me, something didn’t feel right. All the shops were closed and I was the only one left in the shopping center, so why was this big red van pulling up in front of me.
I began to stress; the windows were tinted so I couldn’t see the person inside and I began to wonder who it could be or why were they here so late at night. I went to step out of the van’s way when the Volvo’s lights turned on. The engine began to rev, my heart was pounding as fast as a race car flying around a track. I tried to move but I was so frightened that my legs were frozen, it started to drive and it was heading right for me. I had to make a move or the van would run me over. Quickly I jumped, throwing me out of the vans path and into the wall.
The van quickly turned around so I picked myself up and began to run up the wheelchair ramp and hit behind the dumpster. Everything stopped, it was dead silent and then I heard the screeching sound of the sliding door of the van open, then a big thump on the ground. Someone had gotten out of the van.
I heard footsteps, they began to get louder. I could tell it was a man because of the heavy thump every time his foot hit the ground. He slowly approached the dumpster, it was so silent, and you could almost hear the sweat from my palm dripping to the floor. I closed my eyes tightly as I curled into a ball, the man’s black leather glove curled itself over the top of the dumpster; he was going to get me. Suddenly I heard the red Volvo’s door slam followed by another stranger’s voice calling out to the man beside me. The man began to walk away; I decided to make a run for it.
I stood up, my heart racing, and I ran. I felt the two men watching me as I heard them calling after me as they began to chase me. I continued to run, the heavy footsteps began to get faster and closer as I felt a great tug on the back of my t-shirt. “You’re not supposed to be in here” said the man still holding on to my shirt. I studied him with my eyes, he was wearing a uniform, as was the other man, and then I looked at the badge on to his shirt, ‘Security’ was what the badge said. “Your mother’s waiting for you upstairs” he said.

By Marcus Barlow