Running

• Reuben White, Grade 4
• Short Story
• 2018

Running. Ben was running, chased by red. Not a bright, playful still red, but the complete opposite: a dark, monstrous and moving red. With eyes. And razor-sharp teeth. And a hunger for teenagers. Rumour had it that the Red One was once a man, corrupted by his own anger. All rumours, however, were incredibly hard to spread, as few managed to escape the monster’s wrath alive.

Ben ran far away, up mysterious stairs, across scary bridges – for hours and hours – to come face-to-face with a creepy brown door. The ancient door showed little of its battlefield past; the only remnant offering even the tiniest aspect of its adventurous history being a small engraving of a dragon on the doorknob.
Thoughts swirled through his head. ‘Should I open it? Will I be safe on the other side?’ he thought, noting the dragon. But as he turned around and saw the menacing figure behind him, he realised he had no choice.
His quivering, shaking hand moved slowly towards the doorknob. His hand caught fire: the same colour of the monster, chasing behind at increasingly fast speed. He reached out again, and this time his hand froze, he struggled to control his fingers, as blood stopped flowing to his hand.
However, despite the aching pain of his half-controlled fingers, one more time he leapt to the door, and somehow it opened. With the Red One following closely behind. He reached out a fourth time to lock the door, hoping it would be the last.

It wasn't. His golden skeleton key was broken. How could it let him down, right when he needed it the most? And how could it have been broken? It had worked perfectly before.
‘Never mind how,’ he thought, ‘I haven't a moment to lose!’ He looked around, desperate to find something – anything – that could possibly lock the door.
And then he saw it – a smooth silver key, clearly matching the shape of the keyhole. But as his hand moved to grasp the key, the Red One’s creepy face stared back at him.
He tried again and again to no avail; each time he tried the door it did something crazy - like turning his hand into a frog, or zapping control of his hand so he couldn't move it, and other similar things. Maybe he was doomed, and he should give up, and there was no hope at all. He shivered at the thought as the Red One made one final step...
...and the boy slammed his hand with all his might, into the keyhole, locking the door at last.
No door lasts forever, he realised; the Red One would eventually get free, even if it took some time to do so. Ben turned around, sighed, and sat down, before picking himself up again to resume his journey.

So there he was. Running again.