Lying Awake

• Amy O'Hara, Grade 9, Thomas More College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

No one knows me, only master knows. My existences is kept secret, master only knows my existence. But master and I know all of you, my friends. You see we visit all of you at night during the witching hour. You may sense master and my presences but will never see us. We visit all of you, friends. We will never be there during the day, the light penetrates my shadowy soul, obliterating my flesh. My organs turn to dust, as my bones slowly turn to ash. Although master says daytime is nighttime in another place, so master and I are always travelling, but we never stay in a place to long. You may say that we are afraid but master always proceeds with caution, slowly.
When the sun dies, the moon will rise to live again, I’ll come. We will get close to you, slowly and cautiously. To breathe in your scent of your life. Listening ever so carefully to your heart beating. Then soon after master will soon start work on you, putting one single finger on your cold forehead, softly whispering Latin words in your ear. But you are always screaming and squirming but you never wake up. Master calls them nightmares, but I always want to comfort you, holding you close to my corpse-like body. But I can’t ever touch, master orders me not to touch.
I have learned not to touch over the period of years. If I don’t do what master says, master will hurt me, my skin, my sensitive pale cold skin will pay the price if I do so. But I can’t help myself, when master is not looking I strike my long dirty fingernails, brushing them down your arm, tracing the outline of your chin, I comb your hair away from you face. I can feel heat leaving from your body, it is like a drug to me. But my pale disease-like skin kills your kind, it breaks the blood vessels over your body when I ever touch you. In many mysterious ways which I cannot figure out. I am dreadfully sorry, I really am. But I can’t help myself, but I really want to show how much I love you. But when master is done with you, I would always take a souvenir, something that would never notice that it went missing, usually it is a pen or a coin that I would take when master is not looking. But sometimes you don’t have a lot, with master’s permission of course. I would take a lock of hair, eyelashes or fingernails. So that it will always be mine.
I really hope to see you tonight. But if you don’t fall asleep, master will have a problem. Master says I can’t let you see me. I’ll have to kill you. I don’t want to kill you.
But maybe, deep down inside, just a little bit, I do. I am Master’s child, after all.