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17

Gone Forever

Jessica Hepworth

Isobelle Carmody Award

for Creative Writing

Winner

The moon glistens in the sky as I run as fast as my legs can carry me.

Branches whip my face as I scramble helplessly for my life. It’s nearly

got me now. I can hear its menacing footsteps just behindme, teasing

me, or is that just the thumping of my panicked heart? Tears stream

down my face as I grasp the straw hat tightly. I shut my eyes as the

monster attacks, feeling it rip me apart, making me suffer. A root

catches my foot and I tumble onto the hard ground. Darkness creeps

into the corners of my eyes, pulling me under, flooding my cold,

trembling body.

-

A picture appears in my mind. My parents are smiling, resting on our

bright red picnic rug. My mother’s sweet, beautiful face is shaded by

her favourite hat, a straw one with colourful intricately detailed

ribbons. I can’t remember a time happier than this. I begin to wade

into the shallows of a nearby stream, surrounded by sky high trees

swaying freely in the breeze. My younger brother follows and soon

we find ourselves surrounded by small fish that twirl in-between our

legs. I move deeper into the stream so that the water is just up to my

hip, not daring to go any further for fear of being swept away by the

current.

‘Timmy, stay there, it’s too deep for you over here.’

‘But I want to be with you!’

‘No, I said stay there!’

But Timmy was stubborn and made his way over to me.

‘What are you doing?! I told you not to come!’

‘Well I’m here now...’

‘Timmy!’

It all happened so quickly. One second he was there and the next

he was gone.

‘Timmy! Timmy!’ I cry.

Hearing the commotion my parents come rushing over. It doesn’t

take long for them to realise what has occurred. My mother, eyes

filled with terror, dives desperately into the stream. I hold my breath.

It seems like hours before she finally resurfaces, all her energy

drained, holding a small figure. Timmy. My father races into the

water where my mother stands, takes him from her grasp and clings

to him helplessly. He hurries up the river bank and quickly lays

Timmy on the bright green grass. I pray silently as I watch my father

frantically try to revive him. Witnessing the diminishing possibilities

7