Kidnapped

• Emilia Di Mento, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2017

Chapter 1
The beginning

I was three when i was taken. Playing in my backyard until dinner every night was what i did all the time. I was with my big brother Jack, we were playing fairies and elves. I was the fairy princess. He was the elf. It was getting later but i knew mum would call me in when dinner was ready. A dark green car pulled up outside our house. Mr. Sweey would come over to play often. Mum and Dad liked him. He would pick me up and spin me around like i was flying. It was amazing. One night, Mr. Sweey came over, “Make me fwy, Mr sweey!” I would say. I felt uneasy that night. He picked me up, spun me around and while i was in his arms, he ran towards the car, flung the door open, threw me in and took off.

16 YEARS LATER.

“Now, be a good girl and stay in here until i get home, i left some food in the wardrobe if you get hungry.” That’s what he would usually say before he locked the door and headed off to work for the day, but he didnt say that today. I woke up later than usual, just before he left. He must of forgotten that i was here. He wanted me to imagine him as a father, but i knew that could never happen. As soon as i heard the front door close, i slowly walked to my door and turned the handle. I dont know why i bothered doing this, he always locked it. Except today. I twisted the handle slowly and crept out. The house looked different to what i had remembered. Dangling chandeliers hanging over the dark, wooden dining table, and animal fur rugs covered the shiny wooden floor boards. I peered out of the window to see his car pulling out of the driveway and up the road. I slowly snuck to the front door, twisted the handle, and felt the beautiful, crisp, winter breeze on my face and through my hair for the first time in 16 years. It was incredible. I realised that i couldn’t just stand here, i had to get out of of this prison! I grabbed all i had and ran as far as i could. I stopped in a local park and tried to catch my breath. I dont have much from when i was little, but i have one photo of Mum, Dad and Jack. I sat on a bench and looked over my shoulder. I loved the sound of kids screaming in joy, i saw a father and looked at the picture that was in my hand. He looked at me oddly. He walked over to me. “Andy?” He said cautiously.