Fear

• Ella Trevaskes, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2010

He leaned against the icy stone wall with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, all sense of time lost in the cold dread that consumed his whole body. The ground felt rough and dirty as he absently brushed his hands back and forth along its surface. The only break in the stone walls that he could find (from his repeated trips around the cramped space) was the wooden door. Darkness was all that he could see (or not see). He held his hand out not two inches from his face but could not distinguish it from the emptiness on either side. There was no sound either and the silence gave the sense of being underwater. The stillness seemed to be pushing at him as if it were a delicate weight, not arduously heavy, but more a psychological burden. The subtle smell of damp filled the air and only caused the strengthened the impression of being underwater. Although he hated his surroundings he did not wish to leave, as that would mean something altogether worse. He sat for what seemed an eternity in a state of mindless contemplation until finally he heard the dreaded sound of footsteps.
It was distant at first, but they were growing louder with every breath, slightly muffled by the wooden door that separated them. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and he lifted a shaking hand to wipe it away. The sound of his rapidly beating heart almost drowned out the footsteps. Almost, but not quite. It was probably his imagination, but the footsteps sounded malignant to him. They were heavy, indicating a large person, but it seemed that the person in question was slapping his foot down with excess force, as if they had a personal grudge against the ground upon which they tread. His breath was now coming in shallow gasps. He tried to quiet his breathing but didn’t seem to be able to. The footsteps were insufferably close now, almost upon him, and it seemed as if his heart would burst forth from his ribcage, its frantic beating now causing him physical pain. He took an uneven breath and held it in. This seemed to slow his heart and in the new found silence he heard the footsteps stop and the unmistakeable jingle of keys. The person on the outside seemed to be having some trouble locating the key to the door and the man on the floor welcomed the delay. The person on the other side of the door gave a grunt of success as they presumably found the key they were looking for. His suspicions were confirmed as he heard the scratching of the key in the lock. The fear and dread in him was so strong now that he thought he might be sick. He let out a ragged breath and his heart picked up again, twice as fast as before. The key turned and the lock clicked. Sweat was pouring down his face now and he didn’t bother to wipe it off. The stone felt unnaturally cold against his burning skin. He heard the person on the other side of the door strain as they pushed hard against the reluctant wood. His was shaking with fear and it was only his pride which forced him to pull his body into a more dignified position. The person outside the door gave a grunt of frustration and stopped straining. They took a step back and everything was quiet for a moment until THUMP! There was a sound of muscle on wood and the door flew inward, causing a great rush of air to burst into the small stone room, doing nothing for the damp smell. The man on the floor was bathed in the warm yellow light that made him squint as he looked upon the silhouette standing in the doorway. It was definitely a male. His thick, bullish neck, broad, muscular shoulders and towering height made this blatantly obvious, but his huge frame caused him to be labelled as more giant that man. He stood with his legs parted slightly and his head (which seemed small in comparison to the rest of his body) bowed towards the man sitting against the wall. The man on the ground, however, did not take notice of this. He did not care about the rip in the black leather pants or the long, puckered scar that ran from the shoulder to the elbow of this formidable stranger. He did not even glance at the rippling muscles under the taut skin of the man’s naked torso. No, his attention was consumed completely by the gleaming, wicked looking axe the giant held. The light reflecting off it had a hypnotic effect and the man could not pull his eyes away. He felt as if a cold hand had reached into his body and was presently gripping at his heart at this terrifying manifestation. Time seemed to slow, if not completely stop, as did the rapid beating of his heart. Had he looked up, he would have seen the disgust written plainly in the giant’s face as he took in the pitiful sight before him. The giant crouched before the man and gazed into his tortured eyes.
“What is to become of me?” the man asked in a horse and unsteady whisper.
The giant deliberated, choosing his words carefully. “If I were you,” he replied in a grim, bleak tone, “I’d repent my sins. Your judgement day awaits.”
And with that, the giant straightened up and bought the axe down in a lethal swing, towards the cowering man on the ground.



Epilogue
The man on the ground was known as William Raven, forty-one, and was convicted of the rape and murder of his seven year old daughter Clarissa Raven. Upon searching Mr. Raven’s house, authorities found the remains of his wife Margaret, twenty-eight, and his two sons, Billy, twelve and Clarissa’s twin brother, Hamish.