Broken Promise

Finalist in the 'Written in the Stars 2013' competition

He ran through the heavy, accusing rain, at a speed he didn't think possible for a human. The lonely, helpless beggars, the only people who really knew the horrors of the world, sat in dark corners of the street trying to run away from the world and into the bliss of sleep. For them, anything was better than being awake. They didn't seem to notice him, or maybe they chose not to.
He ran faster. Into the darkness ahead of him. He had to get there before it happened. Before it happened once more. He couldn’t bear to see it again. For the hundredth horrible time, he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t. He… He had to get home before he woke up. To save them. To save his…
He couldn’t help but let the tears run down his hot, red cheeks and mix with the cold hard rain upon him. The street seemed to go on forever, each building and every little detail repeating itself over and over again until it was an endless tormenting loop, until it was some sort of sick, twisted joke of reality.
Are you fast enough?
He knew what was coming and he knew he had to stop it, or else… No! He didn’t want to think like that, he wouldn’t think like that. He would get there in time, he would. He promised them he would. He looked ahead into the abyss of darkness with eyes of determination – and sadness.
“My name is…is Gabriel and I have a…family…a sister…a brother,” he reminded himself, though his voice was feeble. “And I made a promise.”
No, I didn’t think you were.
Every night was the same. Every night painful. Every night he lost. Every night he lost them. Forever. Surely this night would be no different. No different than any other heartrending night he’d had since he was twelve. But if he could just save one - only one - he’d be free. Oh how glorious it would be to be free! But the bad man, who called himself Retae Maerd, seemed to know all his movements and thoughts before he himself even knew.
He ran on. Knowing his house was close…so very close. His lungs were burning and begging him to stop, but he ran on, breathing hard.
Even after six years, it is still fun to watch you try.
His house was approaching fast. Light from the moon cast shadows down upon the door and windows, making the house dark and sad. He thrust the door open and ran in.
But he was too late.
He heard his mother’s agonizing scream and his father yell. Then all was silent - silent except for his own desperate sobs and one all too familiar voice speaking all around him, eating away at him, at his sanity, at his soul, at his everything. Night by night. Dream by dream.
No angel can save them now.
And he woke up.


25 was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.


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