Emma Goorevich, Grade 7, Chatswood High School
Excellence In Writing Award in the 'Just Keep Writing 2019' competition
She sat on the roof thinking. The breeze was cold, but she didn’t mind. She watched the streets below as a car passed and a man walked by. Everything she knew was real. She knew about the secrets of the world and the power that ran it. She stood. The scales covered her, head to toe. Black scales.
Like a dragon. She lifted her wings. Black scaled wings.
Like a dragon. The memories flooded back to her. Her father, and Death coming to meet him. She tiptoed down the roof; her balance was impeccable. She shimmied down the wall, to the street and opened the pub door. The pub was warm, small, just the way it’s always been. Poe was sitting at a table with a glass in hand.
He looks weak. No, he doesn’t.
He lifts his head at her appearance. He’s wearing a black suit and a red tie, his head is bald, and his scalp is shiny. He’s a big man, tall. His blue eyes meet hers as she walks over. For a moment they just stare at each other. She decides to end the awkwardness by taking a seat.
“I assume more watching the streets?” Poe says, taking a sip from his glass. She shuffles her wings.
“Yeah, Apric won’t shut up though.” “How dare you.” She looks at the table. “He’s coming for you. Death.” She looks into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, the eyes she never wanted to lose.
“Elise, when have I ever been scared of death?” Elise chuckled at this. “He’s strong, you should prepare.” Her smile faded. “He could come any minute now.” Poe stood up and moved into a fighting stance. “Good enough for you?” He smiled at her. “You really want to face death in a suit?” He looked down scanning his body. “I’m stylish,” he complained. “Don’t worry about me, he’s never faced me before.” He smiled as he threw a few punches into the air.
He’s coming. Oh, shut up for once. You cannot deny my presence. Yes, I can, and I will. You are so ignorant. Now you’re insulting me. What’s next? Let me out I can help him fight. No, you can’t. This is his fight. Besides last time you were out, you destroyed a city. Let me have my fun. Enough is enough. No, you’re not coming out.
The door swung wildly. A dark figure walked in. The light of the pub closest to him faded and flickered. Wherever the figure stood, darkness followed.
“Pub’s closed,” Poe said, the figure nodded but stayed where it was.
“I’m assuming you’re Death?”
Poe nodded. So did the figure. Then it tilted his head, and a scythe melted into form.
It’s genderless. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.
Poe paced a few steps back and readied himself. Death stepped forward, spinning his scythe and sliding his left foot back.
Let me out.
LET ME OUT.