Broken

• Kodi Sawtell, Grade 9, Boonah State High School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

A misty haze clouded my vision as my breath jerked out. Another breath in.
It feels like icicles are puncturing my already frozen lungs causing my
chest to ache. I inwardly fight a groan in frustration. My fingers clench
the flimsy material of my shirt in a death defying grip.
It was coming.
No way out.
My toes curl and my senses go on alert as a creaking comes from the dark
beyond.
It was coming.
The thumping of my heart quickens as I breath in another wave of ice. My
hair frozen in a water fall of waves standing strong against the breeze
that brings on an earthquake of shivers. Goose pimples raised in mini
mountains joined by stick straight forests of hair on my bare arms and
legs.
I could feel its impending arrival. I needed to get out, escape, free
myself from this murderous thing. I can't take it, even before it has
begun its reign of terror across the lands. It would take control of you,
possess you, kill you. No one was safe.
The creaking sounded again from beyond. I whimper, drawing even more into myself.
It was coming.
I turn, searching for shelter. Garbage bins, old boxes, broken chairs,
nothing. The alley is dark, threatening, and full of secrets of this
incoming terror. I get to my feet, shaking from the lack of clothing. Old
shorts, see-through shirt that is stinking of last week's garbage bin.
Shoes with more holes in them than leather that binds them together, but
it didn't matter. Not anymore.
I had to run.
My partially clad feet slap the pavement as I start at a steady pace, but
soon increase. I am running from the inevitable. A futile search for hope.
I had to try, there is always hope just on the horizon.
What if there isn't?
I begin to panic. What if there isn't? The phrase echoes solemnly
throughout my empty head. My pace stumbles with the anxiety that is
creeping up in my throat. My breathing is ragged and the cloudy mists are
getting heavier.
I can't run from it. I can't run from it.
A small cry escapes from my lips as I fell to my knees.
It was inevitable that it would come. I can't stop it. No shelter, no
amount of running would stop it, only possibly lessen the deadly impact.
It was coming. Right upon me now, not even waiting for that final moment
of surrender to pounce.
It was inevitable I realised.
Winter.
It's here.