Dangerous Games

• Grayce Keen, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2011

I was in danger, I knew that much. I could feel the menace and fury radiating from an unknown source in front of me, somewhere I couldn’t reach out to or strain my eyes enough to see.
I also knew I was in nothingness. Black, dark nothingness stretched out in all directions, pressing down on me so that I felt almost claustrophobic. I never felt claustrophobic. But I knew that this was it – the feeling of enclosure was too strong to be mistaken for anything else.
Breathing was coming too easy, I knew that, too. I should be hyperventilating, or something close to that. But I was taking one breath after another with such a steady rhythm I could have been sleeping.
Then I saw her.
Her stance was so tense and stiff that I could see her uncharacteristically masculine muscles bulging through her black cloak – the exact shade of the nothingness surrounding us. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and it shone like a fluorescent light in the claustrophobic darkness. Her eyes – huge, black balls popping out from her skin – were focused on me, x-raying me with a force like a hurricane. Her bright red lips – a rose on a blank river – were thinned out to a tight line, indicating some exaggerated form of disapproval. Her tiny hands protruded from the sleeves of the cloak, and I could see they were balled up into furious fists, tensed as though for a fight. My eyes flickered back up to her face, and I could see her long, silky black hair shining in a light I couldn’t see.
“Come.”
She stretched her left arm, extending the fingers simultaneously, slowly, seeming to work very hard to stop them curling back into a fist.
I obeyed her command without a second thought – stepping forwards and extending my right arm, almost as slowly and gracefully as she had.
She brought her arm forward so that we were grasping each other’s hands, then bent down to press her lips to my neck.
Then came the pain.
It was so intense it was flooding all my senses, cutting off my air supply and my hearing. All I could hear was the muffled gargle of my strangled scream as I clutched my throat, attempting fruitlessly to stop the pain. I couldn’t see anything, not even the murderous figure right beside me, staring, motionless, as emotionless as before.
I could feel the gravel cutting into my knees as I dropped to the ground, but I couldn’t feel the tiny speck of pain over the flood of it that was pumping through my bloodstream. I looked up, blinking, and sight came back, the pain seemed to be fading as I removed my hands from around my throat and my screams cut off. Blood covered my hands, sticking my fingers together, but I couldn’t concentrate on that. All I had the emotion to register was the sudden smile of my murderer, and the blood staining her teeth.
Then there was nothing...