I Was Taken

• Natalie Nguyen, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2017

I was trapped and starving. I don’t know why I’m in this shed. I feel lost.
“Hello, anyone here?” I ask my croaky voice echoing. “Please help me”. Nothing. I remember that I had my phone in my hoodie. I take it out and turn on the flashlight. Instantly, the room was alight.
“Hello little girl”, said a voice. I shine my light at its direction and see a speaker. “Where am I”. I asked. “Somewhere far from where you’re meant to be. If you want to live, you will follow my chain of command.” Answers the speaker. “What will happen if I don’t follow…. Whatever you said?” I asked. No answer
I look for the door. I find what looks like a rusty metal hanging. I run at it. Locked. I do it multiple times until I see dents in the door. I collapse and catching my breath, giving myself time to think. I’m Arianna Benson. I’m 15 and I was meant to be somewhere. But where was I meant to be? I try to call everyone I know. Mum, Dad, my friends. No signal.
I trip over something. With my light, I see tools. I see hedge clippers and a sledgehammer. I grab the sledgehammer and swing it at the door. The force creates a dent. I try again and gets the door to fly into the open. I drop the sledgehammer and run.
I can see a road as I run. I could stop a car, say that I was taken by someone and ask them to take me to the police. I can live! I hear gunshots. They get closer. I turn around. “Hello, little girl. Why are you leaving?” Says a bald man holding a gun. “Why am I here?” I asked.
“You are here because of your looks. I took you to my hideout to have you”. He answered. “How creepy are you? I’m not a doll you’d take!” I tried to look brave. “Nothing matters right now. All that we need to worry about is where you’d be shot”. I run to a tree just as the man takes a shot. I run towards another tree, then another getting closer to the road. “Come to me and you can live.” Yells the creep.
I finally get close to the road, urgently gasping for air. More shots are fired. BANG! BANG! I suddenly smell burning rubber. A car! I yell crazily to get their attention. The driver sees me and stops. “What are you doing?” She asked. I don’t answer. Except, I open the passenger’s door and get in. “Go! He’s coming!’’ I yell.
She knows what’s going on and steps on it. Once we’re out, sighs of relief were made by the blonde, driver. I can hear yells, then silence. I ask for her name, “Carly C.” she responds in a friendly tone.
“Thank you, Carly. For saving my life”, I rejoice, “Thank you so much”.