The Last Witch

• Amelia Witkowski, Grade 6, Varsity College
• Short Story
• 2021

Excellence Award in the 'Play On Words 2021' competition

As darkness descended upon the village, Eliza shuffled onto the cobbled street. The cold winter’s wind wrapped around her fragile frame, encompassing her like a creeping vine. Her shoes, dark and worn, thumped briskly along with the rapid beat of her heart. She ducked into a slit between two buildings, checking for any nosy villagers watching, before skuttling further into the blackness. A garbage can with the lid half on, was at the end of the corridor. She pulled the lid off the bin before climbing inside. The vast gloom veiled her vision, but her shaking hands soon felt the rusted rungs of a ladder. Her breath, short and fast, seeped through her lungs and she inhaled deeply before descending into the unknown.
The overwhelming stench of the underground caused Eliza to feel queasy. She placed a sweaty hand over her forehead to calm herself. She knew which way to go. Eliza squeezed her eyes shut before stepping further into the gloom. She could feel the sewer water seeping in through her thin shoes, before resting upon her swollen feet. She winced before continuing down the tunnel. “Nearly there, nearly there,” She reassured herself as a rat dashed over her foot. She was on her final stretch now.
Eliza turned the last bend in the maze of tunnels and stopped to catch her rapid breathing. She was in a cavern, the ceiling above her high. The ground in this room was different, no concrete, only pebbles and dust; she was entering unknown territory. Footsteps cut through the silence, causing Eliza’s fists to collect with sweat. She could not be found here. An eerie presence of a silhouette appeared before her.
“Are you ready?” his words cut through the darkness like shards of glass through water. Eliza stumbled backwards. She hadn’t expected him to come so quickly; it was hard to get down to the sewers in secret nowadays. Eliza couldn’t see his face, was he young? Had his parents been killed like hers? It didn’t matter anymore.
“I-I am,” her words were not strong like his. She trembled as she spoke.
“Together,” he said. He reached out a skinny arm towards her, clasping tightly onto her hand. He began to sprint, his long legs quickly taking him through the unfamiliar complex of tunnels. Eliza struggled to keep up but soon they settled to a pace comfortable for both. Abruptly, the boy stopped, “We are here,” he whispered, Eliza could tell he was frightened.
They were the last two left on Earth, every day was a nightmare. Every day they were hiding from the villagers, like a moth to a flame, their escape was unforeseeable.
They took a deep breath before plunging into the depths of icy waters. Neither could swim, the last witch and wizard would forever be forgotten.