S H O RT S TO R I E S F R O M T H E G LO B A L C LA S S R O O M |
2014
***
In the morning I don’t speak to her: we just nod at each other once I leave for school.
The bus is late. I stand at the sign, my fingers tightly hidden in the sleeves of my coat. That’s when I notice them:
those eyes. Silver eyes. I blink. They’re gone. I crane my head and look down the road: the bus is nowhere to be seen.
Shrugging, I drop my bag onto the sidewalk and run across the street and onto the opposite one. Now I am facing
the forest, scenes from my dream clouding my mind.
I step onto the drying grass and slide in between two trees.
I’m lost before I know how long I’ve been walking. ‘Hello? I know you’re out here!’ I shout, my hands around my
mouth. In rage I snap a branch and send a bird soaring into the sky.
My feet feel heavy and I lean against a log, sweating and coughing.
Before I can react a large shadow is cast upon my face and I feel a large figure pressing me down. All I feel is endless
pain. Claws sink into my shoulders and I am immobilized. I force myself to speak: ‘What do you want!?’
‘You,’ a deep voice whispers into my ears, and I black out.
I wake up in the same place but I have no injuries. I pull off my jacket and examine my shoulders. Nothing.
***
When I get home my mom is in the kitchen, crying. I rush in. There are two police officers seated at the table, with
mugs in their hands, opposite my mom. ‘What happened?’ I panic, ‘Is it dad?’ My heartbeat rises dramatically. To my
surprise my mom smiles in joy and jumps up to hug me. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Honey, you were gone for two days!’ My mom bursts into tears and grabs a tissue off the table.
‘Sir, we must ask. ]