Last Memories

• Rebecca Jones, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2010

I’m running, from what, I do not know. All I know is that I have to get away and fast.
Autumn leaves crunch under my feet as my shoes pound against the soft earth. I glance behind me quickly, seeing a dark shadow approaching. What does it want me for?
The forest seems to engulf my freedom and amplify my fear. I desperately search for a place to hide as I brush past the bare, ancient trees. I hear a snarl behind me. I turn to find no one in sight but I can feel a presence somewhere in the distance.
I’m panting now; I’m running out of breath. Ahead I see the end. Not just the end of the forest, but the end of my meaning.
Sprinting faster, the edge of the cliff approaches. I can see it so clearly, like day light, even though the sky is a dark sheet of coal right now. I reach for it. My fingers just inches away.
Taking my last look around I realise what is following me. My lungs open up and let out a scream. I persist knowing that these will be my last memories.
This is the light at the end of the tunnel, my pivotal point of life. I feel the hand of my follower grasp my shoulder, nails digging down into my flesh.
I turn around and gasp at the horrifying sight that reflects through my eyes. Knowing this is it, I take my last breath. I jump.