Terror At Dawn

• Amy Robinson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2011

I could hear the sickening wail from deep within the forest. The first light of dawn had just filtered through the canopy of leaves in an eerie, distorted way. Another wail echoed past the giant trunks of the old oaks. My head pounded, like the ticking of a clock, loud and steady. I turned and instinct kicked in. I ran. I stumbled over something and I fell to the ground, gasping as sticks pushed into my hands. Blood ran down my arms, tickling my elbows as it dripped. I pushed myself up and continued running. I saw a shimmer of light up ahead and stopped, seeing it develop into a man's silhouette.
"H...help" He choked out. He groaned in pain and I saw a knife lodged in his side. I missed my footing and hit a twig, it's crack echoing through the forest like a gunshot. I stumbled forwards, to help the man, cringing at the pain etched in his face. I stretched out my hand, to steady him, but instead of feeling flesh, felt nothing. I took a step back, and I stared at the man, waiting for him to laugh and say it was all a joke. He didn't. Slowly he faded and the light shimmered the way it had we he had appeared. I was frozen, looking at the empty spot where a man had once stood. Was it a ghost?
"Of course. What else would it be?"
I jumped at the sound of another voice. My vision was blurred and in front of my eyes, once again was a person. Only this person didn't want my help. This person was also dressed in a black cloak, one only too familiar to me. I knew what he wanted. Me.
I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.