Oblivion

• Linh Nguyen, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

The stench of rotting human flesh hung in the air; floating about in a shrouded mist of fog. There was nowhere to hide. No cracks or trenches in the ground and no mud to sink in to. The towering Victorian cottage was covered in hideous vines that seem to envelope the dilapidated building. There were aging oak trees that had thick branches drooping low and they surrounded the house; the wind whistled endlessly through the discoloured leaves.
Laia moved across the barren lawn with swiftness and caution. She was careful not to make a noise. She clutched her blade with a strong grip. Laia loved the slenderness of the blade and how it curved and glinted silver in the haunting moonlight. The night seemed so still that the only audible sound was the thump thump of Laia’s heart and her steady breathing. The air was chilling and it felt like ghosts were cloaking her in litres of ice-cold liquid.
The withering roses and daffodils were grounded into the poorly tended garden. This home was clearly lacking in the warm and welcoming side. Laia reached the veranda and grabbed onto the timbre railing. The timbre was starting to rot and the light blue paint was chipping off. She could tell this was once a grand structure with marvelous pillars that must have caught the eye of many real estate agents. This building probably made the neighbours go green with envy. It was so grand that it was a shame only the ghosts of the family that once lived here occupied the vast house. The corpses were piled horrendously in the back garden and it was a surprised they weren't cremated yet. Laia slipped her blade into her leather scabbard that hung on her belt and pulled out a Swiss dagger instead. Dried blood and crusted dirt covered the dagger and she wiped it clean on her denim jeans.
The floorboards creaked with every step she took and the grandfather clock at the end of the narrow hallway was surprisingly still intact and working. Its pendulum swung like it was on a constant repeat but the hands on the clock didn't seem to move. It was frozen in place and Laia felt a shiver pass through her. She was mesmerized at the still lit candle in the dining hall; its eerily stick-straight flame unnerved her.
“Why is this place so - ,” Before she could mutter out her sentence, a rough hand clamped over her mouth and Laia started to thrash about. She unsuccessfully tried to escape the strong hands that gripped her but she did manage to grab a hidden dagger that was hidden at the back of her jeans. She promptly stabbed the stranger’s shoulder and elbowed him in the face. She stumbled on her feet as she heard her pursuer grunt and groan behind her.

There was no one she could outrun him.

As she reached the front door, the boy tugged at her filthy shirt and yanked her back; he threw her against the decaying banister. Before she could get up, the boy hoisted her up and pinned her against the wall. There was no way for her to escape now.
“What…the hell do you want?” she managed to whisper to him in a husky tone. Her breathing started to quicken and her body tensed up.
“I’m Trey and you need to come with me.” Laia’s eyes fluttered shut as she lost consciousness.