The Hunt

• Stuart Moss, Grade 6, Fadden Primary School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

The beast was coming. Thinking of its cruel smirk made Matt shiver. Its ugly appearance made Goosebumps all over skin. That beast was like a blazing furnace, engulfing and destroying everything, always hungry for more. Matt softly ran his face pale with fright. It was something no six year old should have to endure. Wind lashed the landscape and Matt struggled to run against it. He strained every muscle in his body. He had a terrible stitch, but he kept going as fast as he could. He sprinted. He tripped on the messy grass and got up, limping and panting. Beads of sweat ran down his face. He needed a hiding place. He saw a hollow tree. It was a place where he could hide, but the beast would find him eventually. This was only gaining a few more seconds, and then it would be over. Once he was inside he sat down, waiting for the end. The beast could come any second. He remembered his parents. They would want him to be brave. They had said that fortune favoured the bold. The uncaring darkness of the Tree reminded him that his parents were superstitious, and fortune was a superstition. The cold mud gave him no comfort. He hugged his knees and trembled, waiting. He was doomed and he knew it. He remembered when the beast and he had been friends. They had played together, they had loved each other. Now it had to end like this. Matt wished it didn’t have to be this way, but it did.
The beast was looking. It could search Hard and never tire. It didn’t have to search this time though. It already knew where Matt was hiding.

Matt had heard the beast. He knew he didn’t stand a chance. Any wrong move could seal Matt’s fate. He had listened to stories in which young heroes defeated hideous monsters, against all odds. This was reality; the beast would be victorious over him. His eyes widened as he heard a sound. A growl. A reason for terror. A sample of doom. Yet a tiny glimmer of hope remained in his weary, despairing heart. Maybe, just maybe, he could win.
Matt saw the beast’s silhouette against the hollow tree’s entrance. Fear and despair struck him, like black vines entwining his heart. They strangled every hope, destroying the playful six year old he once was and creating a new Matt. A Matt with no will to live. The fear weakened his whole body and he trembled violently. As the beast approached, slowly and victoriously, the last of his energy left him, leaving him lying helplessly in the mud.
The leapt! It shook him and tore at his hair. It scratched him as he writhed around in agony, screaming. Pain shot Through Matt’s body and shook him violently. As his screams echoed around he closed his eyes.

“Why did you behead my Barbie?!!?”Growled Matt’s big sister.
‘The Beast’ was a good nickname for her, Matt decided.