The Flight

• Alexander Eddie, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2019

A black mist emerged from the nothing that was the inky-black depths of the night, somehow darker than the pitch-blackness surrounding it. "Finally …" The forced whispered reverberated from somewhere within, "I have arrived." The Darkness twisted, almost writhing as it gathered strength. It slithered away, dispersing into the cold, unforgiving night. I sat sat bolt upright covered in a cold sweat, eyes wide, fear etched on my pale face.

Sweat cascaded down my steaming forehead as I pounded yet another stone in place. I hauled myself over to the collection of mortar I had churned. 'Can't this wait?' I thought, 'Surely I don't have to work this hard.' A shriek as shrill as a distressed bird echoed over the hills and I remembered what I had to escape. I rushed back to the wall. Sweat streamed into the bucket I carried as it lurched in every direction, spilling vast quantities of its contents all around me. A stone rose up from what was before smooth, even ground, sending my frantic form into the wall. Sweat, tears and blood began their fusion in a stinging mess on my despairing body, staining the bricks that lay around the space my wall once occupied. Defeat overwhelmed me as I collapsed, making no attempt to rise again.

The darkness twisted expanding into an intimidating, black mass. Its power was growing. Its strength, increasing. Its fury, rising. The darkness writhed, contorting itself into an immense, mutilated monstrosity. The beast roared in rage, as it lowered it's head and prepared to charge.

I came to consciousness with a familiar sound ringing in my ear. Panic immediately etched itself on my face as adrenaline began to rush through me. I tasted fear on my own lips. 'Was it over?' I thought in a haze of confusion. I rolled to the side, being tossed around as the beast thundered past me, grunting in fury. It was too late. I had failed. Anger and self-hatred burned through me. I contemplated throwing myself under the returning stampede, but I knew that only I could do what had to be done. So, fighting my irrational impulses, I turned and fled once again.