He Came

• Francesca Bavaro, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

My auburn hair was left unbound, tresses tumbling down my transparent back. The field that I walk in is empty. Like a treasure chest with no treasure. This place is supposed to make me feel better. But nothing seems to work. Every time I close my eyes I see his repulsive waxy face and his empty blue eyes bore into my hollow body. I'm petrified … but who isn't these days? My copper eyes blink back tears of hate and my face scrunched into a hurt appearance. That man … HE CAME.

Some people think he is easy to forget. But that's only because they haven't seen what he does. He tortures those you love if you meddle with the secrets that weave the basket of lies he's created. At first he's as sweet as honey, but his mask soon disintegrates and you are left with only the beefcake of a body you thought you knew. He takes the cargo out of the vessels and leaves the empty. Only the flesh of the person remains.

He got too close to the flames and got burned when he was trying to see the light. He feeds on euphoric memories, (he has none of his own) sucks out his victim's soul. He then leaves them. There is no point of him staying, the vessels bomb themselves. Only their sad, lonely times remain, the pain. They can't break through his powerful spell that hypnotises their mind. His power never thwarts.

Blinking with feigned innocence, brow furrowed as his mouth turned grim. His was a living demon, but horrific, corpulent and bloated. When he was struck by anger his shallow eyes sliced my body like shattered glass that lays on the cold floor. Even though I was not always the victim. He took me hostage said I was fine, I should’ve known his breath reeks of lies.