Trampling the wet asphalt by the flickering neon lamps, I slid down the silent street. Thousands of bullets cascaded from the void above me, bombarding my flimsy umbrella. It was dark and late. I turned left, scurrying stealthily, scraping my hand off the rugged walls, slipping past the peering eyes of a black cat, into the intricacies of a dark alley. I lingered along the lone path grimly and fatigued, accompanied by only eerie emptiness. Suddenly, I turned around. I could have sworn something shattered the silence.
Driven by apprehension, I ran. My veins surged with a burst of energy as I dashed away from an unknown enemy through a labyrinth of cobblestone pathways until my muscles could stretch no more. Ropes lined my body, burying me in shirts, socks and pegs. I rose up, untangling myself, cursing as the bleak breeze brushed my cheeks.
Above me, the nebulous, overcast canvas displayed treasures ranging from a blanket of shimmering stars to a jet-black raven who glared at me as it swooped by. Interminable grey hooked figures stood on either side of the sinister street, gaping down at me, throwing its hard, golden light- that was always welcome during this unfriendly night. Strolling by one of the flickering lamps, my breaths were noticeably heavy as echoes rattled the pungent pavement and then died off. The mist was dense and unsettling. Not a single soul dared to saunter in this frenzy as I found myself at a dead-end to the street.
→ A bat quickly shot out from the shadows, shrieked, and was lost amidst the obscure clouds. I turned away from the wall and found myself looking at Death, straight in the face. From within the white aura that engulfed me, stood a shadowy figure.
Trapped with my back to the wall, I called out desperately, “Sir, please move aside!”
My fear cowered behind a joule of courage.
The figure did not move.
“Sir?” I repeated.
No response.
I stepped closer to the figure as the mist revealed two bottomless eye-sockets, wide-stretched arms and a goblin’s grin.
Glancing at the sickle embedded in the figure’s hand, I gasped in horror, praying that the weapon wouldn’t place itself in my heart.
“Good day sir,” a sharp, husky voice resounded.
It was midnight.
“G-good day,” I stammered.
Something seemed queer.
I examined the shady figure. Immediately, I realised that I was staring at a heap of straws. I knocked it over. As the scarecrow fell, my shoulders relaxed- but only just. A strange feeling of being watched still whispered around the corners. .. I jerked my head around and merely glimpsed as a silvery blade penetrated the air and landed at my throat. The cold metal sent tremors in my blood.
“Money?” the same voice, hit me from a low-hooded man. My arm was grasped so tightly, it throbbed with pain.
“Please, spare me! I have no money! ”
“Have it your way. You must suffer the consequences.”
The man raised the dagger as I struggled to break free- a futile effort. Petrified, I pulled out a few banknotes and counted aloud false sums of money, whilst the man snuggled the dagger in his wolfish hands. Hesitant but firm, my fingers slithered to the hilt of the scarecrow’s sickle. In an unguarded moment, I slid it under his neck and threatened him to back-off.
Startled, the man stumbled and disappeared in the mist.
And once more, I was left alone with the icy cold and the darkness.
–Aarav Mehta Grade 8A
Edited by Dia Makhecha 9B
