Never Ending Fear
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Freya Svanstrom, Grade 6
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Short Story
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2015
It’s not that burnt,
Yeah well I have P.E and I can’t eat black coal for breakfast, yeah well you try and cook for once,
Well I don’t make toast like black coal,
Go to you’re room.
As I fall asleep It gets cold I wake up I hear my dad scream, where on a ice burg oh no
It’s melting my dad is hanging of the edge, I grabbed his wet hand, I slip but it helped I pulled him up, and the sweat on his face sizzled like lava. We were stranded on a ice burg.
I saw a black dot in the air it was coming closer and closer. I had a cold shiver down my spine; I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to end well. Until I saw the engine fall off and a propeller also flung off and cut a big piece off the ice. The black dot came down slowly as I screamed for help, my lungs almost popped. I saw soldiers from the 80s, was I dreaming well “they were black and white. Until it hit me, no really the ice burg hit me. I collapsed and fell off the ice . . .
I found myself in a limo. I heard my dad laughing happily, as a bald headed guy walked up to me with a pointy needle. When he got close I could smell his breath, it smelt like a rotting tuna sandwich, I started to feel dizzy and ill. I saw a big smile on his face. I tried to get up I was strapped to the seat; I was squirming so hard I was freaking out. Until he shot me with the ugly green needle…
I got up with a start, my arm was all green. I was so ill I could see myself on the ice again, I called out to my dad but he was nowhere. I was all alone all-alone, I had tears all down my face. “Jony” said a ghostly voice. “What, who was that?” It grew louder, “Jony…” As I saw a flicker of the light I fell asleep.
I woke up with a start, my head as hot as lava, my pillow and red roses, I had sweat all down my face and I had a salty taste in my mouth. I looked at my clock and it said 9 am, but it was still dark. I looked out my window, “Oh no I’m still on the ice burg - it’s happening all over again, this is worse than burnt toast.