Fear

• Damon Harris, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

Pounding. All I hear is this endless pounding. Pounding on the metal door to this metal room. All I see is the fur on the inside of my arms.
I'm an abomination, an experiment gone wrong. A fox, a little baby, grew into something that wasn't quite human.
I'm the outcast. Unaccepted by everyone. Not a human, not a fox. But something in between.
Nobody wanted me, nature refused me, and science threw me out.
And now they are pounding. Pounding on my door, demanding to be let in. Let in to a place that no one can go. No one except me.
A locked door, standing guard to an empty room. An empty room full of one thing. Me.
I sit up, and hug my fluffy tail to my chest. They don't go away. Pounding on my door until I can't watch anymore.
Why are they doing this? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?
Tears stream down my face. I don't know why. I'm not sad.
The door buckles slightly, and the pounding intensifies. My tears run faster. The floor seems to become colder and harder than possible. The walls lean in, and the ceiling grows icicles.
I turn from the door and run, but the walls seem to stretch away with each step I take. I fall to the floor, as it becomes more slick than possible.
I turn to the door. The pounding shakes the whole wall now. I pull my legs up to my chest, and cover my eyes with my tail. I can feel the room grow colder, and the pounding grow stronger. I hear the sound of metal beginning to buckle, and risk a peek. I see one of the hinges snap, and the door hangs somewhat loosely.
I see only darkness behind the door, darker than possible. Some of that darkness seeps into the walls and floor. The temperature grows so cold, my breath appears in clouds, and and my tears freeze on my face. My fur is coated with a fine layer of ice, making me look like I was built out of snow.
The darkness flows around the door, up the walls, over the ceiling and along the floor.
I stand up, and try to back away, only to find a wall. Part of the floor bends up, and forms a small hill. I run over and stand on it. The darkness laps up at the edges of my island, until all I see is myself, my island and the door. The darkness starts to rise up around my feet. I lift them up, but they are invisible against the limitless black.
I fall to my knees, and the room grows ever smaller. Still the pounding goes on. The last hinge breaks, and darkness flows over me.
And then, there was nothing.