Never Trust The Horns

• Heather May, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2016

Ok, so it all began when I was about 14 years old. Everything started changing and I didn’t even notice, I was just living my life like the good little girl I am. But when I turned 17, I did start noticing. My friends were going missing, my teachers, relatives and even random people I had seen on the bus, just disappeared. My name is Riley Stand, and I live in Australia.
So I noticed something massive happen when I turned 18. I had started to see things, big things, scary things. But I didn’t want to say anything to anyone in case I got put away in a mental hospital. So I tried to live normally, but it just kept putting me off, seeing these demon creatures everywhere. I went to the bathroom, there was a creature of the night staring at me hungrily. When I went to bed, they were there, standing above me watching me sleep. In the end, I gave up on sleep, it was too unnerving to think that they were just watching me as I slept. For all I know, they could be demon murderers, or just fluffy dogs in costume.
When I was about 23, the creatures weren’t showing up as much anymore. Wherever I looked, I could only see a couple, instead of hundreds like before. Maybe it was a sign, maybe I had just been sick for 5 years, and now I was getting better. Or maybe I was dying, who knew.
On the day I was meant to turn 25, something happened. It was just darkness, and I heard screams. This wasn’t a good sign. I tried sitting up, but I was bound by some sort of chain. It was like a spotlight being turned on. Suddenly, there was light everywhere. I looked around, and screamed.
There were my friends. There was Aunty Morgan and the stranger who always smelled funny on the bus. But they didn’t look like themselves. They looked emptier, hollower, than I had seen them before. I couldn’t place it though. From the back, the crowd of people parted and I could tell who was coming. It was my father. Satan had finally brought me back. Oh yea, forgot to mention, Satan is my father.
“What do you want?” I yell up at the unicorn.
“What do I want? I should be asking you that!” He laughed “Well, if you don’t know, I hope you will be satisfied with what we got you.” He steps to the side and I see a gigantic pile of neatly wrapped presents.
“What is this?” I ask nervously. Something feels off. Really off. When was my dad ever this nice?
“Don’t you get it? Today is the day we bathe in your screams. This is the day we shower in your blood. This is the day that you die!” Satan screams. Who knew that unicorns could be so different to what we believe. Never trust the sparkly horns.