Young Writers Society

The world was definitely darker after the incident. Grey clouds drooped defeated in the sky, a sombre blanket strewn across the heavens. I ambled down the street alone, a strange situation for what used to be an energetic centre. A wrapper circled my feet. I followed vacantly as it limped away in the dutiful breeze, weaving through looming buildings adorned with cracked brick sneers and broken window scowls. The alleys were framed with disheveled advertisements. They hung tenaciously but for nothing, as time had erased all meaning that they once boasted. I heard a macabre howl in the distance. My cue to depart.

As I wove between stone towers to find somewhere safe, I spied a rooftop. This contained two major advantages: a vantage point and multiple escape routes. From here, I could scrutinize the desolate landscape of a once bustling metropolis. Frightening images danced in my mind, of innocent men falling prey to dark, otherworldly beasts. I shuddered and moved my gaze out from the city toward the local garden, the only thing that still portrayed life in this hellish land. As I curled up to have a quick nap something caught my eye. A silhouette in the distance stood on the shore of a small lake that lay in the centre of the garden. The figure held a different posture and shape to the others. A human? Unlikely but not impossible. 

I vaulted off the roof to a nearby tree and shimmied down its trunk before bounding toward the city’s garden. I then realized that my vigilance had just been blinded by my excitement. Appreciating how fortunate it was that I had remained alive, I slunk to a nearby wall and inhaled deeply. Gathering my senses I set off once more toward the mystery figure. I squeezed through the wrought iron bars of the garden’s gate and moved towards its centre, sure to avoid the path in case I met something hostile. As I reached what felt like the end of a forest, I poked my head through shrubbery obstructing my view. 

The figure stood still, at the edge of the lake. A girl, not more than 12 years old, looked over the water, her thick brunette hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. The translucent water lapped at her feet as if trying to coax her to be consumed in its world. I approached her cautiously as she sat herself down, burying her head in her arms. I advanced, feeling my heart pounding relentlessly in my throat.

The first human contact I would have experienced since the few months after the incident would be right here and now. I blinked and swallowed, before gently nudging her shoulder. She gasped and jumped up, clasping her mouth. I froze, wondering whether I should simply run. I didn’t. This was my last chance to team up with someone and try make it through this nightmare. She knew I posed no threat. Lowering her hands, she clutched them at her chest. Her face split into a genuine smile, experiencing the same emotions as me. She grabbed me and hugged me tight, like a long lost parent. I felt hopeful and relaxed, two emotions that I had almost forgotten existed. l hoped that she would never let go. We broke off our embrace and simply looked into each other’s emerald eyes. Words were irrelevant. The only important thing now was the survival of us. She turned with new found optimism and headed in a direction leading to what assumed would be her home. She smiled coyly and beckoned me to follow, and so I did.

In this ravished land, time was so distorted that it was impossible to recall how much of it we spent together. Regardless, I know every waking moment was spent side by side, forbidding the other to disappear from sight. We became a single being, adhered by love, trust and hope. She often talked to me, to comfort both me and herself. She told me her name was Grace and she decided that she would call me "Umbra". We truly made an amazing team, doing everything we could to ensure our survival. While I hunted for meat, she would forage for fruit, vegetables and berries. Sometimes we would even walk for miles to find food, but would always return to our home in the garden. It would have been the perfect life, save for the constant paranoia of being assailed by a non-human, or Dreadcur as Grace had aptly titled them. We never saw Dreadcurs while we were together and were lulled into deadly relaxation. The raucous wails of the fiends did nothing but confirm their distance from us.

It was not long after that the incident occurred. Young Grace traipsed along the garden path, exhausted after a particularly strenuous stint of gathering. I followed some steps behind, ignoring niggling reminders to avoid walking in such an open area. I heard the distinct growl of a Dreadcur. I slowed, pondering on whether it was a figment of my fearful imagination or reality. I listened again intently before hearing a quiet but chilling pant. I froze, preparing for the worst. Grace turned and saw that I had come to a halt. She walked back to me and stroked my head while whispering softly. 

This world offered no chance to a child, armed with only innocence and naivety. The Dreadcur howled and descended, snatched Grace from our world and vanished in an indigo vortex, back to its own.

Though I so desperately needed my other half, there was nothing I could do to save her… My tail lashed ruefully as I dived into the shadows back toward the city.