20 / 156
22
Pitch Black
mum’s after walking up the hill. My legs are sore like there is cement
in my shoes. It’s hard to lift them.
I open the door and the water comes rushing in. We have two
doors so we can block out the rain. I make sure I’m not caught in the
current, while watching the rapids rush down the road.
‘
It’s been three days. I’ve slept in trees, covering myself with my
brothers’ raincoat, and cuddled my mum’s candle.
I hear a buzzing in the air, a sound that I’ve heard before but I
don’t know where. My mind is telling me to look up, but I can’t, my
body’s not letting me open my eyes.
Then I feel it. A cold hand on my neck, pressing into my neck.
‘No pulse, get her in the helicopter now!’ someone yells. I have a
feeling this isn’t going to have a happy ending. Then I see it: a light.
A light that leads to a door.
I turn around to see me. I’m lying on a bed, people poking me,
zapping me, a lady telling me to fight, but what for? If I wake, I’ll
have no one. Is that the life I want to live?
Suddenly, I see a person, no face, just a silhouette telling me to
fight, live, live your life. I take one step towards me. And then it’s
pitch black.
‘Oh darling, you put up a fight, a great one, for your age,’ a lady in
a white gown says.
‘Where am I?’
‘Darling, don’t you remember? We found you face down in a river.
It seems to us that you were there for several minutes. Luckily we
found you just in time. Now if you don’t mind me, where is your
family?’ she questions.
‘I live in Woodland Town. It gets a lot of rain. Have you not heard
of it?’ She looks at me with a face that can’t be described.
‘That place has been deserted for years. Everyone was evacuated
twenty years ago. Not so long ago, the firefighters and police were
looking around to see if people still lived there. They looked
everywhere. No one’s there, sweetheart.’
I’m staring at her, speechless. I see images: mum, dad, Tom, all
playing together except I see a banner in the background saying
Family Picnic 1977. I feel in my pocket: old crumbs of a candle. My
hand comes to an old piece of paper, with my family. I look up into a
mirror, and I don’t see me. Then my mind hits pitch black.
‘
7