The Day We Got Away

• Grace Casno, Grade 8, Wollondilly Anglican College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

His feet stumbled forward blindly over the broken and slimy undergrowth. His bruised and weather-worn legs screamed in frustration as he forced them forward. Slick wet blood oozed from his broken arm, cascading to the forest floor in a steady red rhythm. " Go, keep moving Thim", he whispered in a sharp, cracked voice. Thimble, the girl on his right, turned her weary head, her eyes wide with the fear that crawled over the both of them

How they had managed it, he did not know. It wasn't everyday that two twelve year old children escaped from the back of a moving van, especially when you consider the fact that they had been tied together, held hostage by someone they did not know. Tapper ran his fingers over his rope burns. They had jumped Tapper landing on his arm, Thimble on her wrist. They had heard the van speed away, taking with it any hope of survival. Now the two stumbled and fell through the dense forest, hoping to find the road again. Kidnapped. Lost. Cold. Without any sign of civilisation. The lost part of this growing nightmare was the part that scared Tapper most.

The forest bore no signs of life other than the occasional squirrel or bird. Thimble was growing weak, now. Tapper had tried to let her rest, but the forest was drawing her in, inviting infection and disease to a party that was already doomed. Tapper could almost taste the desperation clinging to her, swarming around her. They reached a small clearing, surrounded by age-old pines on every side. He stared around hopefully, begging for the winding road to appear. It didn't once cross his mind that there was no hope. None but a muddled, confusing path that was barely visible from where they stood.

"Thim!" Tapper cried joyfully. "Thim there's a path, just behind that pine!"
Thimble stared at him blankly, a vague look of recognition in her eyes. She sat down slowly, carefully. Tapper didn't want to wait, "c'mon!" He yelled helplessly.

She shook her bedraggled head, crossed her arms and layed down. Tapper sank down next to her whilst nursing his arm. He began to plead like a child, pushing and rousing her with his good arm.

"Thimble please! I'll bleed to death. You'll freeze if you stay here! Please..."
His voice croaked out that last word. A word full of tears. He felt her heart. It beat slowly and glumly. Then it stopped.
"Thim? Thimble!" Tapper screamed, trying to poke her awake. "C'mon Thim!" He yelped, hopelessly prodding her cold, lifeless body. He couldn't carry her, not with his arm. Nothing could stop the panic that festered in his heart.

So Tapper left her there, covered in leaves and tears. He followed the path for what seemed like forever, falling here and there. When he took his last dying step, he fell onto a small, toy sword.

Thimble ran over. "Wow, Tapper! This is the best game ever!" He smiled pulling himself up. The backyard was strewn with blue rope and Autumn leaves, sunlight filtered through the tall trees, casting orange shadows on the fresh grass. He laughed at the game, at how real it had felt. He loosely picked up the foam sword and ran towards his sister.