Fall

by Emma, Grade 10

Red, orange, and brown leaves crunch under my feet as I make my way through the forest. Sunlight is streaming through the branches above my head, creating little spots of light on the ground around me. I lift my face, letting the warmth of the light caress it. Sounds of nature surround me, welcoming me. A bubbling stream invites me to drink from it. I hike up to it and dip my hands into the clear, cold water. Slurping the water, I feel it start to cool my body off. This is a beautiful place; I could stay here forever. Sleep my days away in the sunlight. 

However, I should be collecting firewood. Now is not the time to be caught out after dark. I continue to pick my way through the forest, gathering bits of wood on the way. Just as I turn around and head back, something catches my eye. Am I seeing things?  

When I am about to turn back around, something moves again. Intrigued, I head toward where I last saw it. When I get to where I saw it, it’s gone—just the usual undergrowth of the forest. As confusion sweeps through me, I continue walking, wanting to find it. Looking from left to right, searching for whatever that thing was. 

Shadows surround me, encapsulating me in a wave of darkness. Is it night already? As the darkness encircles me, I feel fear creeping up inside me. The trees in this part of the woods seemed older, the branches above my head creating a canopy that blocked sunlight from getting through. The temperature starts to drop. Shivering, I run my hands up and down my arms to warm my extremities. As I peer through the gloom, I see what looks like people moving around. I am seeing things. I must be. Confused, I moved to turn around. Yet my legs keep walking forward. Fear sweeps through me. It was as if my legs were independent of my body. I scream out, hoping someone will hear me and come to my rescue.

It was no use. 

The compressing darkness muffles my cries. 

It feels too compressing.

Wait. 

It’s not the darkness. 

It is a hand. 

“We mustn’t let anyone hear you, missy,” a gruff voice whispers in my ear. My body, walking forward a mere second ago, has become stalk still. I try to rip my head away from the hand that is covering it, but I am frozen. Short puffs of air come out of my nose. Terrified, I try to get a glimpse of my captor. I can only see the arm that belongs to the hand covering my mouth. Anger overwhelms the fear inside me. Why is this person doing this to me? I bite the person’s hand. Hard. I taste the saltiness of their blood. 

With a yelp, my captor releases me from my imprisonment. The hand has been removed from my mouth, and I am no longer frozen. Surprised, I stumble forward, catching myself just before I fall to the ground. I turn around to finally see the person who held me in place. 

No one is there. 

Disoriented, I turn in a full circle trying to find my captor.

What is happening to me? 

I stagger around, frantically trying to find my way out of this oppressing darkness. It is pointless. I am lost. Screaming will do nothing; I don’t want that man to come back. Tears trickle down my face, making paths in the mud smears. That is when I trip over something. Looking down, I see bright white, contrasting with the darkness around me. Digging my hands into the dirt, I frantically uncover the object. 

A skull.

That is when I realize. 

I am going to die here. There is no way out. Giving up, I bring my knees to my body, scrunching myself into a ball. Sobs overwhelm me as despair makes a home in my chest. As the shadow of my captor engulfs me, and a knife I knew was coming drives into my back, my last thought is: I hope I will not be missed much.