Darkness

• Emily Laing, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2022

All was black. My footsteps echoed down the seemingly endless tunnel. As I approached the junction, I glimpsed light. I stepped out of the darkness. As I cautiously placed my trembling feet along the degraded path, I spied a burning, bubbling liquid. Lava. My feet slipped from beneath me. The crumbling footpath disappeared down the sheer cliff and I tumbled. Dangling from the ledge, I could feel the warmth of the boiling rock, waiting to devour me. My mind flashed to my mother, the day she had fallen, when she took her last breath. Was that going to be me? My hands weakened on the crumbling stone at the thought of her small, pale body lying motionless on the floor. My fingers burned with exhaustion, when my body dropped, closer and closer towards the piping hot magma before my trembling hands caught hold of a small ledge. My feet dangled below me, only metres away from the lava. Pain shot through my arms as I hung, my fingers threatening to drop me. Looking up, I saw the moon smiling down with her craterous smile. “Go on,” she seemed to tell me. “Look up. And climb.” My fingers found holes in the weakened rock, and I began the treacherous climb to the top.

Heaving my weary body over the ledge, I stood up. In front of me stood an old castle, its never-ending turrets towering over me like giants, the broken windows staring down, taunting me, daring me to enter. I lit my candle and started to walk cautiously towards the aged building. I steadily began the journey to the entrance. My legs ached as I ascended the crumbling steps. At last, my feet touched the solid ground of the entrance. The huge, oak doors loomed over me.

I pushed the doors hesitantly. They slowly creaked open and an eery feeling came over me. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t belong. My footsteps sounded like a gong in the middle of the night. Everything surrounding me was covered in a thick layer of dust. My breath fogged up in front of me before disappearing into the darkness. A shadowy figure appeared. “Leave,” His hoarse voice whispered, “And never return.” Picking up the flickering stub of my candle I turned and fled. I felt his long, cold fingers on my shoulder. I spun around. My movement caused the man to stumble. A piece of rock crumbled below him, and a look of terror passed his pale face. He plummeted down towards the bubbling lava. His screams echoed into the darkness. My candle was burning low. It flickered and was pushed this way and that. It was nearly out. The wind whispered around me. It picked up my soft, brown hair and gently blew it straight behind me. With a hiss, my candle was extinguished. All was black.