My phone flashed displaying that a message had come through. I flipped it open and saw that Tristan had sent a text.
I’m out the front.
I wet my lips with my tongue and stared down at the words on the screen. Running fingers through my fringe I slipped on some shoes and walked in silence through the house. Opening the front door I stepped into the night and spotted Tristan sitting at the end of the driveway. As I approached he turned and stood up with deliberation, holding his head high as we made eye contact. I stopped in front of him and crossed my arms.
“What do you want?”
Tristan wrapped a hand behind his neck and smoothed his foot across the ground in a nervous circle.
“What do you want?” I repeated more forcefully.
He let out an impatient huff and swung his arms by his side. “I’m sorry Ben.”
I nodded my head slowly as the back of my throat tightened. “I don’t believe you.”
“Awe Ben, come on. I meant no harm,” he said easily with a ready smile.
I held my face in my hand willing myself not to cry.
“Don’t be a queen Ben, you know I love you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and swallowed repeatedly as my emotions threatened to overwhelm me.
“Follow me,” I croaked and brushed pass him, heading down the road.
I didn’t look back but knew that he was close behind. I led him to the local park which was shrouded black apart from the lamps lining the main pathway. We came to the small brick building housing the park toilets.
“Ben, what are we doing?” Tristan asked with complaint.
I turned on him and grabbed the front of his shirt, my lips meeting his firmly. Tristan tensed but soon relaxed into my embrace and pushed into me greedily. As his hand slid down my stomach I pulled back and slapped him firm across his cheek.
Tristan wheeled back and gave me a look of anger and shock.
“What in the -”
“Don’t pretend you love me,” I shouted, stepping toward him.
“Fuck Ben,” he said, looking as if I’d gone wild.
I beat a fist to my chest. “Do you know the pain you caused?” I asked my voice thick.
“I’m out of here,” he said and turned to leave.
I grabbed his waist and pushed him up against the brick wall behind me. “You think you can use me like that? Treat me like that?” I hissed into his ear.
Tristan twisted roughly in my grip but I pinned him securely with my hands wrapped around his wrists.
“Get the **** off me,” he yelled.
“I want you to know what it’s like to be used.”
I snaked my hands around his waist and began to unbutton his jeans.
“Ben, stop it,” He cried trying to push me away.
“Do you know that my dad hates me now?” I asked through clenched teeth, “that my mum won’t even look at me?”
“Please, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, his voice rising.
His pants came off and I backed him to the wall. “I will use you.”
“Don’t do this Ben,” he said, still trying to escape me.
His hands clawed at my own and he tried to kick my legs away, but with a sudden rush of pure hatred I entered into him roughly. Tristan cried out and his body flattened against the wall. I pushed against him hard, ignoring the sobs and his shaking frame.
“Now you know how I feel.”
And yes, it is a story of a young *** man, and this is a **** scene.
I hope you can handle two major taboo subjects in one lol

I’m writing a science fiction book titled “The Hidden” and I’d like some feedback. I’m only going to post the first chapter on here, but if anyone wants to read more, here’s the link. http://www.webook.com/project/The-Hidden

Chapter 1 (Just Run)

I stared across the black room into the eyes of my love. It was the first time he looked up at me since we got down in this cursed basement. It was the first time he looked up at me for what I counted as three weeks. I could barely see his face in the dim lantern light. Things have never been the same since they came. Still, I know there’s nothing I can do to change the fact that they’ve invaded. Time had seemed like a big thing since then. There was a rustle in the corner next to me and my head flew to the sleeping bag. Melissa. I crawled to her side and pulled her in my arms before she could start screaming for mom and dad again. I didn’t want her to bring them to us. She wrapped her lanky arms around me as I hummed a random tune.

The paper in my hand crumpled as a tear ran down my freckle infested cheek. After these past two months, I’d believe anything to be possible and real. To find out they exist, to find out they are here on the same Earth as me, was all too unbelievable. It isn’t anymore. I looked down and unraveled the ball of paper. It was hard to read in the gloomy light and I could barely make out the words. I still had an imprinted image in my mind. It said, “They’re coming. Find somewhere safe and dark. Don’t make any loud sounds don’t make any swift movements. I’ll find you . . . if they haven’t already. Stay hidden.”

My father signed that note. I was led to believe that my dad departed this life in a plane crash. I read the newspaper with the crash. It was dated January 18, 1990. That was the year I was born and my dad was the pilot. There were supposed to be no survivors. The thing that blew me away was the dating on the letter. It was sent on January 18, 2009. Exactly nineteen years after his crash. Either that was a coincidence or that date had a far bigger meaning than I ever could have imagined.

While I hummed, Bobby scooted closer to me. I shuddered at his cold fingertips that caressed my shoulder. Somehow, it felt good. It made me feel safe. I liked the feeling that I had so easily forgotten in three weeks. After finally getting close enough to me, he wrapped one arm securely around my neck and I leaned into his chest. I heard his breathing. Slow and steady. Slow and steady breathing brought back many memories. Some were not the best. I trembled at the memory of that night. I sighed heavily when he stopped and continued humming. Things weren’t exactly worse than ever. The worse act about what’s been going on is it’s been tearing me further and further away from Bobby. It hurts that he couldn’t even look at me until three weeks later. Everything was so messed up. So many people had been lost. So many meanings had drifted off . . .

The next minute, Bobby was shushing my humming and pointing above. My head darted to the ceiling and I heard it. It was the faint sound of dress shoes flicking against the wooden floors. They were here, in the house. I was about to panic, but my instincts have gotten better.

“How did they find us?” Bobby mouthed to me. I shook my head in bewilderment.

I moved closer to Bobby and pointed to the wall rear us. There was the tiniest ***** of light. He nodded and walked slowly to the stairs that led to the first floor. I motioned for him to come back, but he put his finger up at me, making me fall silent. I stared at Melissa and moved toward her. I could hear her whimpering and murmuring in her sleep. Surely, if I could hear it, so could they.

“Mel. Mel, wake up. We have to move Mel. Now, wake up!” I hissed and she leapt up, darting her head from side to side. Her eyes gaped at me, wide with horror as she apprehended what was going on. “Mel, help me over here.” I walked over to the ***** and there was a latch.

I gripped one side right before Melissa got the other. It was stuck at first, but after a few pulls it started to come loose. Using all our effort, we gave one last tug. Finally, it gave way, making a loud crash.. Bobby’s head darted in our direction and the movement upstairs stopped.

After not twenty seconds of being frozen in place, the sound upstairs resumed, louder this time. It was coming in our direction. They were coming downstairs. The Hunters. My heart started pounding in my chest and I stared at Bobby, questioning what to do. There’s no way we could get away from them. They’re too fast and too strong. We’d need the car to get away. The problem about the car, it was half a mile away. Surely, they’d catch up to us before then. It was ******* just trying to run. Still, it would be ******* sitting here and waiting for them to come and get us.

“Bobby!” I hissed, quickly. “There’s no way we can all get away on foot, but if we can jus

CHAPTER ONE

“Are you questioning my professionalism? Are you implying that I am, to the nth, absolutely incapable of running this establishment?”
There was a long pause after Matron’s heated tirade.
“Yes, I know about the global economical crisis that it affecting everyone!” she snapped.
It obviously wasn’t just the said global economical crisis that was affecting her – PMS, Pissed-Off Matron Syndrome, was getting to her too.
Leina leaned in as close as she dared to the door that was slightly ajar.
Eavesdropping, she had learnt, very long ago, was one life-skill necessary for survival in this hell of a place.
“Our oldest resident is seventeen.”
Incredible. For once in her life, Matron had referred to her as a “resident” instead of with some other patronizing label.
“And how do you suppose we feed and clothe the other children? With scraps and rags?”
As if it isn’t already like that, Leina thought to herself with a glance down at her chemise that was practically moth-eaten.
She shifted herself to get a better angle of the room. Austere and pragmatic like the rest of the building, it was equipped with the bare essentials of an office. Matron sat at the table with an old-fashioned phone at her ear. She swatted at her frizzy hair in her usual hot temper and yelled some more obscenities into the mouthpiece. Any more up the decibel scale and Leina could swear, the other person would have their eardrums shattered. Behind matron was a cabinet that Leina planned, by any means, to get to later.
“We shall discuss this further then,” Matron said sharply and hung up. The clock chimed nine o’clock.
Bed-time. The race for either life or death.
Leina skittered down the corridor as quickly and quietly as she could before Matron could come out and scream “Rogue child at her!” – Not that she hadn’t on many occasions.
The door slammed and the click of Matron’s heels on the floor began to reverberate around the corridor. Clutching her glow-stick close to her, in case Matron’s eyesight had improved overnight (highly unlikely), Leina turned the corned and then climbed stealthily up the staircase. The yellow light of her glow-stick showed her a small puddle of water that was slowly dripping down the steps. Gross. Little Akira still hadn’t learnt how to control his bladder.
Taking care to avoid the three consecutive steps that creaked with the slightest touch, Leina took a massive lunge forwards and then scrambled up the remaining steps. She burst through the dormitory where a frenzy of children ran about, stuffing all their brightly coloured toys under their mattresses and clearing away any traces of the games that Matron frowned upon; dominoes, Monopoly, anything that was capable of brining delight.
“Quickly now! Into bed!” Leina hissed and switched off the lights. They all jumped into bed, ducked their heads under their blankets and squeezed their eyes tight-shut.
Silence. Not a sound. And then the dreaded three creaks came.
“NO NOISE OR YOU WILL ALL BE SENT AWAY!” Matron’s shrieking came like a blast from a bomb. All the children shivered in their skins.
Except Leina. She was sending herself away tonight.

After Matron had retreated to her own alcove (known because classical music was being played from her gramophone), Leina jumped out of bed and whisked the rug away from under her bed.
“What are you doing?” A little girl asked and sat up in bed. The other all children all followed suit.
Leina held the glow-stick up to her face “Do you really want to know? I am…releasing the monster…” She hoped her voice was scary enough to creep all the other children out. Half the children squealed and buried their heads under their pillows. Things would be easier if they were all gullible like that.
“There’s no such things as monsters,” the little girl said haughtily, “They don’t exist. You’re trying to get away.”
Leina ignored her and lifted up a loose floorboard where all her treasured possessions had been hidden. She pulled on a jumper and then shoved everything else into a Hello Kitty bag: a broken pen, a pirated copy of The Emancipation of Mimi which had been scribbled out to say Leina and a few bank notes.
Only one thing wasn’t there, the one thing that she had meant to take out first. Her fingers groped frantically around the pit and then there it was. It had almost escaped her reach. She yanked the locket away from the two floorboards where it got lodged in and clasped the necklace around her neck securely with a rush of relief.
“You’re going nowhere!” The little girl announced shrilly. She stood with her arms outstretched.
“Respect your elders, Junko-chan,” Leina said authoritatively. No commotion please, no commotion please.
“You’re not an adult so why should I? You’re three years away from being twenty, Leina.”
Canine mother! This little pretentious brat was barring the way out and totally devastating her chances of escaping this purgatory, this life of monotony
After I read some of your comments, thought I might post some notes up because it turns out that when I pasted the entire chapter, the whole thing didn’t turn out!

OK…..she hasn’t lived here her whole life. (It says later that she’s only been here 7 years, but that bit got chopped off by the word limit)

There is a prologue to this by the way so it would make more sense.

On the subject of the orphans…yeah, little Junko is shrewd, annoying, hmmm…..

thanks for your comments guys!

It’s an entry for a horse story contest but I REALLY need some help. First of all, I want to know what you think (is the writing good or bad? Does it sound too much like something out of a novel, not a short story?). Secondly, this is about 700 words – and the contest limit is 500. So I need you to tell me, what parts do you think aren’t needed? Where do you think I could shorten it? Or…do you think I should just forget about trying to shorten it, it would ruin the story? THANKS!!!!!

The black horse stood in the chute on Ronnie’s left, just over a swell of thick, lofty grass and sand. She allowed herself to stare at him for a long moment, gaze unwavering. Then the brisk voices of adults carried to her ears.

“Well, the best of them are on the ship,” she heard her father say. “They’ll sell for a good amount of money and, besides, the public will take it much easier than if we’d killed them.”

“Culling wasn’t the solution,” another man agreed. “The rest can be let free; we’re still keeping a good 200 on Sable Island, just enough for it to support.”

“Right.”

The black horse suddenly snorted, plunging his nose into the air and pawing the ground several times. He looked painfully awkward in the tight wooden stall, kicking up dust and clamming against the sides whenever he so much as moved. Dirt had tangled into his thick coat and mane, and his legs were caked high with mud. Even his eyes seemed to be clouded.

Now Ronnie’s father was moving towards the corrals of mares and foals. The one nearest the gate stuck its head over hopefully as he approached, eyes strewn with desperation, chest pressing against the wood. But no physical power was needed. In a swift motion Ronnie’s father opened the gate, giving way to the free land.

One by one the horses leaked out, until there was nothing but a stampede of thumping hooves and wind-carried mane, of jostling bodies and moving muscle. Within a minute the herd was a mere blob on the horizon, and Ronnie’s father was speaking again.

“Now. Just the stallion to worry about,” he muttered, tilting his head toward the individual chute.

The black horse had stopped, sides heaving, ears flattened as his herd escaped without him.

“It’s only one horse to be killed,” the other man pointed out. “We finally have him captured – securely captured, Tom. He’s not getting away this time. Don’t you remember last year, when you walked too close to the holding pen? That kick kept you out of the saddle for months.”

“I know,” Tom agreed huskily.

“We’ll be killing a pain,” he said. “Now come with me, to the van, for the rifle. That is, as long as you can keep watch on him, Ronnie.”

“Of course.” After all, she’d been keeping watch on him the whole afternoon.

Left alone, Ronnie narrowed her eyes against the glare of sunlight and licked her parched lips, without letting her gaze stray from the stallion. For several long moments he paced restlessly, coat bathed with sweat, breathing laboured, great nostrils flaring in the island air. Ronnie knew it was hopeless. The walls were built tough and sturdy, beyond anything a horse could find its way out of. A perfect trap.

At last Ronnie rose to her feet. Kicking her way through the deep sand, she found the horse’s stalll, running a hand over the hard wood and large metal latches. The entire stall was reverberating with the thrust of the stallion’s body, no attention paid to her. She bit her lip and squinted against the rising sand. It was a simple metal lock. Ronnie slipped it through and opened the gate.

Immediately, a gust of wind rattled it from her own grasp and flung it against another side. The stallion whinnied high and shrill and then blindly plunged through, knocking her shoulder in his own splendour and glory. Ronnie felt a wave of dizziness as she staggered backwards, tripping to the hard ground. The jolt of hitting it send her rigid. After a moment she felt a small spasm of pain and gripped at her shoulder, and as she struggled to her feet she could only blink the grit and sand from her eyes, hope turning to desperation as she wildly searched to find the tall black shape. All she wanted was one last glimpse.

But the stallion had vanished. Even in her dizziness it was clear to Ronnie that he was gone. As she stared into the distance, blinking back sweat and tears, she instinctively rubbed her shoulder. It was throbbing, now with greater force.

She rolled up her sleeve. There, on her shoulder, the wild horse’s knock had left a small, round bruise, now turning purple. Proof that she was the one who’d saved his life.

It’s school HWK, I won’t bother putting my age down, just tell me, do you like it? It’s long and complicated so I won’t dare bore you with it all, ^^)

Thanks, x
Fear. What exactly is it? Everybody has felt a moment in their lives where they really are stuck for words – speechless, gobsmacked, whatever. Does one really know the cause of such anguish, why their adrenal glands actually secrete adrenaline into their blood stream, sending their bodies into ‘survival’ mode? Happiness is one of a small handful of feelings to be cherished during any one lifetime, others? Hmm, pleasure, love, passion. So why is it that fear, a measly feeling such as fear, has the longest lasting effects? Sure, everybody remembers the good times, when kids could run around in their own neighbourhood, shouting wildly at one another. Having the time of their lives. Until fear sets in. One summer’s day, an idiot, one moronic idiot thought, “What’s the harm in taking one of these ****** down to the woods and playing a few games, huh?” Oh, now everybody remembers that. The bad shall always outweigh the good, no matter how much of a good time you’ve enjoyed. One of life’s stories I learnt the hard way.

And as I stand here, gasping for breath; memories of the one I love, the one that shall always truly need me no matter what, the same being I cradled in my arms the day she was born – I feel sick to the bone. How could I have let this happen? Surely this is none other’s fault. I promised myself, my wife, and my daughter that they’d never be alone.

The sweet scent already faded, I clasp her pillow case to my chest, cradling it there. Sitting in this bare room, the walls loom so greatly over me. Walls I’ve put up in an effort to seize the flow of my emotions. I stand, feet rooted to the ground, and look around. That all too familiar mustery feel lingers in the air – the one that keeps you securely in that ever-lasting time warp of commotion. One could compare it to the opening of a very old box, being unable to close it so one loiters there, unwillingly but all the while intrigued. Her room: pink, bubbly, full of life and happiness. I begin to rummage in her draws, oh damn it, what’s the point anymore? There isn’t a secret key hidden between her favourite magazines, is there? The key doesn’t unlock a secret door in her panelling, does it? It won’t reunite me with my little girl. In all my efforts, can I truly call her that, “my little girl”? They grow up, all we are; apart from being their “annoyingly embarrassing parents” are their free rides to adulthood.

But hey, there’s no tellin’ what fate has in store for you, who thought that I’d be the one left in this world. Being the ‘father at home,’ I’ve let a lot of people down in my time. I’m on the winding path of trying to make amends. It seems as if life isn’t going my way. Failure, after failure, after failure; a very short sentence that sums me up very well. Now, I’m not one to believe in some sort of eternal being whether it be Buddha or that Jewish God, Adonai, though I’d once. I must admit these past few years I’ve been seeking out some sort of guidance, from whom? I don’t know, that lady up in heaven? Perhaps, silly.

The phone rings that melodic hum encouraging me to pick up, I check the caller ID, Kim: my sister. I let it go into voice mail, listening to my cheery voice asking the caller to leave a message, promising that I’d get back to them ASAP.

“Kyle, Kyle. Answer my calls, I know you’re there. You mustn’t blame yourself,” she says, as Claudia pretends she’s a fire-fighter – she just doesn’t understand.

CHAPTER ONE
I was aware that I was on my back, sprawled out like a bug, and my head ached like hell. Groaning, I propped myself up on my hands; I felt fake grass underneath. I pulled my knees up to my chest and lay my head between them, rubbing my temples. I finally reopened my eyes.
It was like being in some freaky dream. There were no walls as far as I could see, which wasn’t far, considering all I could see was darkness. It was the strangest thing. There was a light a few steps away from me, which I looked up at-the light hurt my eyes it was so bright-and found it came from a flat light bulb. I couldn’t see the sides or back of it; it was like the bulb was floating in space, pointing directly at me. It lit up a little circle of area around me, and I was indeed on fake green grass. I stood up, feeling fragile.
Very few thoughts went through my head. I knew I should be worried, questioning why I was there, what this place was, how to get out, how I got there; but I just couldn’t bring myself to hold any thought too securely. I kept drifting back into mental silence, a dream-like state. Maybe it was a dream, I decided, and for the moment my worries ceased. So I stood there, motionless for a moment or two.
It was then that I realized how silent it truly was.
I wasn’t breathing.
A bolt of shock flashed through me and I desperately tried to inhale. Nothing happened. I looked down at my torso, and had I been able, I would have screamed. There was dry blood all over me. I frantically clawed my shirt up and saw three bullet holes. I realized there was no pain, but I was not about to touch them. I felt my back, my hands shaking uncontrollably, and snatched my hand back away when I felt that the holes went all the way through. My eyes hurt because I couldn’t cry, but I still tried to, tried to scream. I was shaking all over, and pulled my jeans up as far as I could get them. I found no comfort in my chest being the only wound I held out my arms, felt through my hair, ran my hands down my neck, checked everything in a hysterical, silent, blur. I was bruised all over.
I fell to my knees, flailing my arms around, hitting the ground, helpless to the situation. It was torture not to be able to scream, cry, or even try to calm myself with deep breathing. I put my hands over my eyes, unable to stop my entire body from twitching with fear and shock. This couldn’t be real.
How was I still alive? A horrible thought kept trying to claw its way into my head but I wouldn’t let it in. Wouldn’t let myself think it.
When did this happen? I couldn’t have been shot. When was I shot? I wasn’t. But I had the wounds. Are they even real? I paused. I clung to that question in my head. Held it tight, for all hope.
They weren’t real. I was trying to convince myself. They didn’t hurt so it wasn’t real. I’m not breathing. How am I not breathing! Of course I’m breathing.
I’m not breathing. My heart is not beating.
I swallowed. Thank god.
I can’t swallow if I’m…I wouldn’t let the thought in. I tried to swallow again. Nothing happened. No! I tried again. I had no more spit.
I took my hands off my eyes and looked at my shirt again. I sent another wave of fear through me. I bent forward, testing myself. There was no pain.
I rubbed my eyes. They sill hurt. If I wasn’t producing saliva I wouldn’t be producing more tears. I’d have to keep that in mind. Close my eyes whenever I remembered. Keep them moist.
What was I thinking? I’m alive. I’m alive. I looked at my shirt again, this time trying to see it as fake blood. It looked really real. Like a scary movie. And it was a white shirt, so my blood-the fake blood, I corrected myself-stood out. My whole body shivered. My leg wouldn’t stop twitching. But I was still clinging to the only hope I could think of. This was a cruel joke. Of course I’m alive. Of course I’m breathing, producing saliva and tears. Of course this wasn’t my blood. I didn’t even remember getting shot.
I held my shirt out so I could see through the three holes. It didn’t look like someone cut them out with scissors.
I didn’t remember this happening. I stopped short.
I didn’t remember anything. Absolutely nothing, before today. Was it day? I rubbed my eyes again. I think they were getting dry. My head was still throbbing. I desperately wished I was dreaming. My back ached, too. This wasn’t a dream.
It was a horrifying, horrifying reality. And then the thought found a way in. I didn’t want it to, but it did.
I am dead.
I started screaming again, though nothing came out. My thoughts were incoherent. I stood violently and staggered towards the light. It stayed the same distance from me. I ran at it. I jumped. I am dead.
I don’t know how long passed until I became calm. Very, very calm, sitting on my shins, my hands folded, head drooped.
I felt numb. I wondered if this was what being in a state of shock was like.
My life didn’t flash before my eyes. I couldn’t remember anything from it. Maybe that
how can i have the sentences go better with eachother? and ya i noticed that too. i wasn’t trying too hard to make it flow yet, more get the idea in my head out first
CONTINUED

My life didn’t flash before my eyes. I couldn’t remember anything from it. Maybe that was good, in a way. I had nothing to regret, to miss. What was my name? I pulled my hair foreword so I could see it. It was a little longer than shoulder length, and a deep reddish brown. It didn’t bring back any memories.
I wanted a mirror. I wondered what color my eyes were. I probably looked pretty terrible, though. I was dead. Murdered. Three bullets to the chest. Was I murdered? It could have been *******. No, I was bruised. I’d been beaten then, too, I surmised. I didn’t even cringe at the thought. Someone killed me. Why? Was I a bad person?
I decided to stop thinking about my death. Death. The word was losing its meaning.
I started walking. I didn’t know where, but it was better than sitting wondering who I’d been. The light followed me. Or was I just not moving? Enough questions. My head hurts.

^^and that’s where chapter one ends. sorry. didnt realize it got cut off
thanks!!!

and bookworm, are you saying i leave the ending ‘Or am I just not moving?’? because i feel like it needs atleast one more kinda closing sentence after that.

question’s open to anyone! should i change the ending? if so, to what?

My story it’s only the beginning but i would like to know what others think

“Mum I’m gonna go on a walk I’ll be back soon.” I grabbed my jacket and iPod and headed for the door.
“Okay but don’t go into the woods, you know what they say about that woods.” My mum put a very serious face on.
“Mum that wood isn’t “enchanted” don’t listen to all the myths.” I quickly opened the door and ran out before I got the half an hour lecture on how mythical creatures are real and that they do live in that forest.

The forest isn’t anything special. I mean no-one goes in because this stupid village believes all the myths and legends. They say that evil spirits live in the forest and there is a great battle happening between the forces of good and bad. They have even locked the rusted gate into the forest but that isn’t going to stop me.

I swiftly climbed up and clambered over the rusted Iron Gate.

I jumped down into other side began to walk through the waist high grass which swayed in the gentle breeze.

The forest was quite nice the sun was shiny through the canopy and warming me up. There was an eerie silence in the forest that sent a shiver down my spine. But I kept on walking; I was determined to bust the myths.

As I got deeper the silence was unbearable there wasn’t any wildlife around just dead trees with branches which curl round in jagged ways.

Out of nowhere I heard a whisper shatter the silence. I quietly tip toed towards the whispers.

As I drew closer they turned into voices.

Ugly voices.

Repulsive voices.

From the corner of my eye I saw where the disgusting voices were coming from. I pulled myself close into a tree and peered round at two women.

The first woman had bright orange, matted hair that emphasised her pale white, wrinkly old skin. She was wearing a dress that looked like it originated from the Victorian times; it was all torn, dirty and bleached by the sun.

Suddenly she hissed at the second woman and slapped her across the face. The second woman held her face for a few seconds.

She was a beautiful woman full of youth. She had long beautiful blonde hair which reached her waist, mesmerising blue eyes which were crystal clear and perfect skin. She made every model on earth look like a tramp.

“But mother I love him.” The second woman pleaded.

Suddenly a high pitched scream penetrated the eeriness. I clamped my hands over my ears in a desperate attempt to save my ears but it didn’t help.
The second woman just stood there screaming. When the scream finished I peered around to see that the first woman was now standing in front of a pile of ashes. She then started to walk away in the opposite direction cursing and shouting.
“When I find that boy I shall rip him to pieces and kill him! Arterez!” A ball of fire filled her place and then vanished.

I waited for a few minutes to make sure she was gone slowly crept over to the ashes, checking around for anyone else, and stared in astonishment.

In the place of the ashes was now a beautiful necklace with the most amazing pendant I had ever seen. There were four diamonds in it; they were red, blue, green, and a clear one. Detailed strands of metal curled around them and held them securely. These strands formed a Celtic kind of pattern that formed a circle. It was so beautiful. I couldn’t take it so I put it back on the ground where it belonged. I had already seen enough of this forest so I decided it was time for me to make a hasty exit.

I began to run in the direction I thought I came but it all looked so alike I think I ended up going in circles. I desperately ran for the exit. I eventually was seeking the comfort of my phone.

As I reached into my pocket to get my phone I found something that didn’t feel right.

I slowly pulled out the pendant I saw earlier.

Copyright Paige Campbell