The Moon Was My Only Witness

• Alex Martin, Grade 11, Gymea Technology High School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

With its cold and sharp touch, the rain tries to comfort me. But, like everything else, I try to ignore it, but it encases me to the point of near blindness. I see only the monstrous shadows of the dead soldiers that stand still, trapped in the ground by their overgrown, skeletal feet, and the dirt road that stretches out beyond the mist. The lightning allows brief vision, but only brings the disappointment of nothing. Artemis stalks me, but her vision is clouded. Her protection is unobtainable, even though any protection would be wasted, as the one I was hiding from has appeared. Alas, the warm light from the house only sent further shivers down my body. I now stand across from it. My throat tightens, but I am not shocked. The moon appears from behind me, illuminating the red wood, which the dilapidated house is encased in, and reflects off the truck’s dirt covered windscreens. The door is still open.

Artemis reveals herself and guides me in. The house convulses and creaks in the wind, even though it was me who only breathed. The lightning shows me down the path I have been down so many more times before. I walk like I am a puppet on a rope. Guided by an outside force. Everything has fallen. Every picture, every mirror, every painting, every light. The floor full of scattered, fallen glass does not break my skin when I walk upon it, but instead, breaks itself. These rooms mean nothing to me even though they were once full of meaning. My heart beats as fast as I am walking, but my mind thinks as fast as the glass breaks under my feet. The ground continues to break with every step, though my steps are not breaking ground. My steps will never be ground breaking, never again. The room changes, and so does my breath, as it diminishes. The light is on but I see nothing different. The side door is open, allowing the rain flood in. I go to close the door, but the door closes itself. The soft close of an unusually hard wind puzzles me but does not distract me from the noise from the floor above. The sound of a struggle.

Standing on the edge of the highest step, I hear the noise again. It is neither a growl nor a grunt, but more of a gasp. This floor is a lot darker than the one below, in more ways than one. I feel nothing, yet I sense everything. The tightness around my neck, the blind eyes staring at me through the dark, my heart slowing. Artemis shines once more to reveal the path, but She does not reveal the mysterious noise.

My vision changes and I finally see through my true eyes. I hang from a rope, barely breathing. The stool below me has already fallen. My nightmarish illusion is fading, like I am. The rain was cold, but not like this. Not like death.