Vighund

• Ruby Sharkey, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2020

Vighund
‘Come here puppy,’ she whispered to herself in a low tone. After a few seconds, Vighund came bounding around the corner with a look of hesitation and fear on his face. Lizzie stood herself up and trod over to the mirror, careful of the wreckage around her feet. For a second she saw who she used to be; wrinkled, dry, and slightly broken. Her eyelids sagging down into her cheeks, her hair growing wild. That wasn’t Lizzie anymore. Now she was young and alive, a coruscant glare in her eyes and long blond tresses knotted onto her scalp. She took a deep breath, calming the anger that constantly brewed inside her, and turned to pat the great black hound. Her ghostly white fingers stroked the air where Vighund should be. He looked up at her, dead afraid, and another thunderclap rang out. Lizzie wasn’t scared anymore, in fact, she felt quite amused. A watery smile flickered on her face, and she tried out a laugh. To her ears it was sweet and melodious, but in reality it was scratchy and cold, ringing out through the broken remains of winter hospital. ‘Good boy,’ Lizzie breathed with a distant taste of insanity. She continued to stroke the air while the memory of Vighund melted into the shadows.

The motor car spluttered and wheezed as they rocketed down the road. The highway was littered with crumbling slabs of concrete and glass panes that had been blown there from the hospital ruins, most likely by the big storm in June. Flynn began to doze off, but was jerked sideways by his papa’s attempt to avoid the debri, pressing him against the foggy window pane. Instead, he gazed out at the sad little trees that bore no leaves, their wooden arms cowering in the rain. Next to him, Freja gasped in her seat.
‘Look Flynn, over there! up in that building!’ She squealed. Flynn lolled his head sideways.
‘I can’t see anything, Freja,’ he grumped back at her,
‘Just look! There’s a person up there!’ she insisted, shaking his knees.
Flynn glanced back at the building, and saw Vighund was also staring up at the hospital. He let out a low growl, as Freja started to roll down the windows. Flynn scanned the building up and down, until his eyes settled on a small figure with wiry white hair, who appeared to be screaming out of a cracked window frame.
‘Who in the world...?’ Flynn enquired.
All three of their gazes locked onto the figure, and Flynn realised it was an elderly woman. She started to stumble, wailing loudly, and tumbled out of the window frame, her body limp, her scream quietened by the fierce winds.
Their eyes lit up in horror, and Freja started to whimper.
The woman’s body crumpled onto the ground, the sight of her vibrant white hair lost in the wreckage of the building.
Flynn couldn’t believe he had just watched someone die.