Salvaged From Death's Clutches

• Patrick Remorozo, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

The tune of ‘For Elise’ echoed throughout the Pitt Street that lay underneath the sunset sky. The high notes bounced across the glass panes of the countless shops, and the low notes shook the ground and tingled the feet of the countless people. As my left hand glided across the beast of four strings and my right hand wielded the sword of a hundred threads, the notes that resonate through my mind make their way to reality and into the minds of those who stop and listen. Even those who didn’t stop to listen, they still walked pass with a sense of harmony warming their busy hearts. As I finished my piece, I was praised with the applause of many people, from children to elderly alike. This is the world where I should be. A world where my life is centered around music.

I could’ve played all night if I wanted to, but there was a special someone waiting for me. Although I believe that music is the most important thing to me, and that everything else in the world was inferior, Hope is the only exception. I quickly pick up my bag, now filled with the clinking noises of the peoples generosity and begin to run. As I rush through the crowds of people and the countless intersections, I catch a glimpse of a blinding white light at the corner of my eye. I don’t know what it is. Was it a flashlight? A streetlamp? Perhaps it was the tunnel of light at the end of life? No wait. It’s just a truck. But by the time I realised it, the deed was already done.

Time simply stopped for this very moment. There I was, in the middle of the road, with instrument in hand, in mid-step; staring at the face of my death. It had a gleaming silver face, with teeth made out of iron. Its eyes glared at mine with a tremendous beam of white light and its forehead was tinted; barring his mind from being seen or receiving harm. This monstrosity ran at speeds four times the amount of mine, capable of pushing down any obstacle that lay in its path. I am screwed. Death was sitting atop this beast, ready to collect his next victim. He then says, “Sorry. But not today.” I feel a hand grab my collar. As I'm pulled away from my demise, I catch a glimpse of the silver beast rush past and the dark figure that stood above walk away into nothingness. I was salvaged from death’s clutches. I drift to unconsciousness; to the sound of a scream I know all too well.

I wake up on a bed and to the sound of crying. Or at least I think I’m awake. That cry though, I know it all to well. “Hope... Is that…. you?” I whisper faintly.
“Yes it’s me.” Hope says with her usual calm tone.
“Hope….”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for saving me.”