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• Catherine Broekman, Grade 9, Deniliquin Christian School
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

I peer around the corner of the decrepit old house. Haunted, they say. Chills run up my spine. I can't believe that I took this dare. “Amber,” they said. “Don't be a wimp,” they said. So here I am. The moon, full and bright peeks out from around ominous clouds. The looming shack casts out shadows. My sneakers slide on the wet grass. “Get a grip Amber,” I tell myself, “Be brave.” Shrugging my jacket closer against the cold, I step up onto the veranda. A board creaks. I run my fingers over the peeling paint on the rotting weatherboard. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And then I hear it.
Whispers, close but soft. I freeze. Voices. My heart beats wildly in my chest. I'm slathered in darkness as the clouds obscure the moon. Footsteps. Fear and adrenaline spike my veins.
They are drug dealers for sure. Or kidnappers. Or serial killers! At the thought, my body begins to move. I creep slowly away from them. CRASH! My foot goes through a floorboard. The whispers stop. I stand still, silent. But then I see them. Ominous figures shrouded in darkness, features indiscernible. Evil. They stalk toward me. I yank my foot from the hole.
Splinters tear at my leg. I ignore the pain and begin to run. They follow.
My footsteps patter on the wood and my hair billows out behind me. Blood drips from my leg. They're only a few steps behind me now. I come around a corner and see my chance. A bush next to the veranda. Gathering my strength, I leap. I land, but my feet can't hold me. The grass is wet as I crumple onto it. But I am hidden in the shadow of the bush. I count the figures as they run past. Three. Once they're out of sight, I force myself onto my feet. I am running as fast as I can now. I can hardly see. I hear shouts. They're following me again.
They won't let me escape.
Redoubling my efforts, I push on. But they're catching. I hear the thud of their feet. I am panting by now. I scream. It echoes through the forest. No reply. I'm alone. Nobody can save me.
I don't see the mud until too late. I'm slipping. I regain my balance. I hear the men call to each other. I struggle on but I'm sinking. The moon comes out. The shadowed figures have surrounded me. I try to make my feet move. I can't. The mud is too thick. Too deep. I hear a laugh, raspy and cruel. Exhaustion crowds my vision. My legs wobble. The weight is too much. They step closer. My knees buckle and I collapse into the mud. Someone calls my name. The voice sounds vaguely familiar. Gunshots ring out. Mud envelops me. I can't breathe. Hands grab and drag me out. I have to... I can't...
And then I pass out.