Death’s Grip

By Emily Brande

Prologue

As the moon rises into the sky, the night is awakened. The crickets start to sing their welcoming song. The frogs start to croak there loud belching song. And somewhere far away, you hear something. Something different. The sweet song of a forlorn little girl calling home. You open the door lured by the sweet song and step out into the cold night air. You hear the voice again, but closer, and again right behind you. As you turn, your life flashes before you. You see her, a chill goes through you.

And you’re swallowed into the night.

Day:

The cold autumn air swept through Pat’s long tangled hair, and sent a chill through her, from her head all the way to her muddy feet. Yet, she still kept running, faster, and faster. Until, she stopped and ducked into a bush.

“Ready or not, here I come,” said the voice of Pat’s nine-year-old brother Sam. Pat ducked farther down, and started breathing heavily.

“I hear you,” Sam said peering over the bush into Pat’s red face and smirking.

“Cheater!”

“Am not! I heard you.”

“Oh yeah, sure, from like one million miles away, yup sure.”

“Whatever, you’re just jealous that I’m better at hide and seek than you,” Sam said grinning snugly.

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not,” and with that Pat shoved Sam into the bush. He got up and pushed her back. She pushed him again, and again, and again, until they were rolling on the ground beating each other up.

“Excuse me,” said their mother suddenly peering down at them, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, playing?” Pat said questioningly.

“Whatever, it’s lunch so get your dirty little selves in the kitchen within the next two minutes or there will be consequences.”

“Ok,” Sam said leisurely.

“I said now,” their mother said as she turned and stormed off.

“Yeah Sam, now,” Pat said sticking her tongue out, and following her mother. Sam drug behind them and moaned occasionally.

“Shut up, Sam,” Pat said when they reached the door.

“Yeah, make me,” he said walking into the house. Pat slammed the door and stormed in behind him. But, she ceased to notice the face of a pale, smiling girl staring in at her through the window.

Afternoon:

Lunch. It was always a disaster. Food fights, talking with your mouth open, spitting, fork throwing. This happened every lunch. And for that very reason Pat and Sam’s father never joined the family, their mother although almost ready to explode would always sit through the long painful meal. Today however a melancholy feeling had fallen over the family. They all sat silently, for once, eating their food and looking suspiciously at each other. As soon as they had finished their food Pat awkwardly said,
“well I have a history paper to finish, um bye,” and she left. Sam then said,
“yeah, I have a paper to finish as well,” and hurriedly left. Leaving their poor mother with all of the dirty dishes. As Pat ran up the stairs and into her room she shut the door behind her, and fell across her bed. She shut her eyes, there was a girl. Pale faced, sweet and innocent. Yet with blood red eyes and wrath in her face. She looked as if she meant to harm someone. The smile turned to a smirk and her sweet gentle curls fell away revealing a monster. A monster that was coming right towards Pat. She woke up screaming. It was dinner.

Night:

At the dinner table it was quiet and awkward, again. Something was different and weird. Very weird. She looked at her mother and said,
“Mom, how are you.” Her mother looked at her blankly, and stuttered the words, “mother? am I your mother, why, I don’t remember,” she said looking blankly about her.
“Who are you,” she said turning back to Pat. She then turned to Pat’s brother and said,
“and you who are you?”
“Mom, whats wrong with you, we’re your children.”
“Children, I don’t have children?”
“What, mom yes you do!” said Pat anxiously.
“No, you must be mistaken, we’re not related, I’m sorry. And as she said this she got up from the table and said,
“what a pretty song.”
“Mom, there is no song, just silence.”
“No, little girl It’s a beautiful song, oh so pretty.” she turned towards the door, and started walking towards it. She opened it and stepped outside into the autumn night. Pat listened. Suddenly she heard a growl. A scream.
And silence.

Death:

After the scream Sam got up and said,
“How beautiful,” he then got up and slowly walked towards the door. Pat to petrified to move yelled,
“no!” He opened the door and stepped out side. Another scream. Pat got up shocked and ran to her fathers room she opened the door, and heard another scream. No this could not be happening. Pat started crying. And then, she heard it. The voice calling, oh it was so pretty! Suddenly her mind went blank. She started walking towards the door, and suddenly she was outside. She heard the voice and turned. The girl from her dream was there. She looked into her eyes froze. The girl moved closer, and closer. And suddenly the world went blank and Pat was gone.

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Categories: Issue 5, Young Writers | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Death’s Grip

  1. Emily you rock. That goes for all of the young writers too. Keep it up!

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