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Shorts
Hunted
By sophgiant
14 November 2007

This is a short story that I wrote for a piece of english homework.


  “Run child, run” The trees whispered, urging her on further.
She ran, feet pounding against the leave laden forest floor. Her heart beat frantically against its chest wall. Her lungs burned, grasping at available air. She wanted to give up. Her body wanted to give up. But she couldn’t, not now. They would get her. They were after her.
   Deafening roars filled the air; they were getting closer. Birds fled from branches, soaring overhead. The trees continued their whispering. Darkness settled in; clawing at the light through the trees. Fear crept along her bloodstream silencing all other emotion.
   She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. Her body screamed at her to stop. Every part of her ached. They were still coming, though. She could sense it. Just then, the trees changed their whisper, “Your wrist child, look at your left wrist.”
She looked down, but there was nothing except the birth mark in the shape of an eight-tipped star. Something inside told her to look around and she did with unease. Piercing red eyes bored into her in the distance. Fear jolted through her body. It was them. Closer. Faster.
“Touch it.”
She carried on through the brambles and bushes, twigs scratching her skin. The roars sounded again.
“Touch your wrist”
She longed to be somewhere else, back in the safety of her family. A gust of wind rushed through the bushes, sending a chill down her spine.
“Touch it now!”
She stopped in her tracks, reached down for her wrist and pressed her thumb into the birthmark. She closed her eyes. Silence. A few moments passed. Her heart was still racing but her heavy breathing was beginning to slow. She opened her eyes, hoping. It was still the same. Her hopes crashed to the floor and the panic set in. She could see them- they were coming directly at her. But she couldn’t move; her body was frozen on that very spot. Tears were released from the eyelids, flooding down her face. This was her fate. She closed her eyes once again and braced herself. They were near. Closer. Faster. She struggled to control her breathing. Tears flowed heavily down her face. She could feel their ice breath on her skin. She tried to utter a last prayer but no words escaped her lips. This was it.
    A eerie silence passed over the forest. All was still.
“Mya!” voices broke the silence, travelling through the forest.
She opened her eyes. It was the same. This was not the afterlife, she was alive. People were coming into the clearing, gaining speed as they saw her. She recognised them-they were her family. Mya rushed over, and collapsed into a lady’s arms. They were gone. They weren’t going to hurt her.
   An aging lady, wispy grey hair framing her face, walked over to where Mya was, sobbing in the arms of another lady. She knelt down and placed a hand on Mya.
“Hush child.” She whispered into her ear, soothing her. Within an instant Mya’s body fell into a state of unconsciousness.
   She awoke at dawn break with the same lady, Nage, by her side. At first she thought it was all a horrid nightmare, but the scratches covering her body showed otherwise. A man walked in at that moment, and embraced Mya, running his fingers down her hair.
“Mya darling, I’m so sorry.”
She looked up, and saw that the man had swollen eyes.
“What for, Pa?”
Her father took a while to answer, “Everything.” He told her, before leaving her once more.
Mya sat there for a few minutes, reflecting what her father had just said. How was he to blame? What had he done?
“Nage,” she spoke at last, “What were those things before?”
“The shadows,” she took in Mya’s puzzled look before continuing, “They live within the deep realms of the forest, although they are always wandering. They lurk behind you, never in front. Always there as you travel. They feed off of the pain and suffering of us, foresters. They deal in the ancient magic that has existed for thousands of years within this forest.”
“But why were they-”
“Hunting you?” Nage interrupted, “We do not exactly know, no one is sure, but we do have our theories. Those you will learn in time my child. Now is not the time for you to worry, you are safe now.”
“But Nage, the trees told me to touch my wrist. I did and the shadows went straight past me.”
“Ah, the masking spell. The trees are on your side, child. But you do not need to worry about that now. We will keep you safe.”
Just then a young man stepped into the room, a woven bundle clasped in his hand.
“Nage, everything is packed and everyone is ready. Is she fit to travel?”
“Travel?” Mya burst in.
“Yes, we said we will keep you safe and that is what we will do. The safest place is Seringdon, along the coast of Gyrren. No shadows can enter that realm. Ancient magic, that even they can’t overturn is cast upon its gate.”
She turned to the young man in the doorway, “Yes, she is fit for travel, we shall begin today.”
    The group set off, heading eastward. Mya was kept within the middle of the group, hidden and protected. This did not help her unease, though as every sudden sound caused her to panic. People tried to calm her, which helped for a while. Onwards they travelled for days, before heading into less dense forest.
    Her father strayed away from Mya, as though to hide his guilt from her. He knew, from experience, that the shadows would stop at nothing to get her. Even a strong pack, like them, would not stand in the way. He feared for his daughter, and the more time spent in the open forest, the more the fear grew within him.
    The morning in the forest was eerily quiet. Mya knew the feeling, she knew what she sensed and it sent panic soaring through her body. But when she glanced at the others, their faces showed no fear, no sense of what was happening. Couldn’t they feel it? It was only when the same, deafening roar shattered the silence that the rest of the group knew what was happening.
    Mya screamed, fear escaping her body. She knew what was coming. They were after her. Again. But, between all the panic and fear, the group knew what they were doing. They were ready.
“Mask her, and put her within the trees. They will protect her.” Mya looked up. Nage had spoken, and four men were coming towards her. Mya stood, panic stricken as she was picked up. A hand was pressed against her wrist, and someone muttered in her ear. All she could remember was an ear-piercing scream as darkness consumed her.
    She awoke within the Oak trees. Her arm was covered in mossy leaves and bark fragments were twisted around strands of her hair. Scents entered her nose, burning, smoke, ash. She struggled up, and walked into the clearing. The scene that greeted her was something that could remain etched in her memory until her last breath. Great mounds of ash lay scattered on the forest floor, amongst the leaves. Garments of clothing, torn and covered in a fresh liquid lay amongst them. It was a mess.
   She saw Pa wandering around, dazed and with a large gash across his arm. She ran up and squeezed him tight, taking in his warm scent.
“Pa, what happened?”
“Shadows.” That was all he uttered. Immediately a swarm of guilt passed over Mya. This was her fault. The shadows were after her. They killed her family looking for her.
   Nage and the others soon joined Mya and her Pa. They carried out the death prayer for the fallen-about a third of the group, collected up remaining belongings and continued on to Seringdon. The group was silent, which left Mya plenty of time to realise what she had to do. She had to let them take her. She would have to give herself up to the shadows.
  The group stopped for the night, a days journey from Seringdon. Once night fell, and everyone was asleep Mya crept out into the open. Before she could go anywhere, a young man stepped in her way, mud brown hair flat on his head.
“Rynon, move please.” Mya begged.
“No, you can’t go Mya, I know what you’re doing. It isn’t the way.”
“They want me, only me. They killed 15 of our people today Rynon and it’s because of me. If I give myself to the shadows everything will be alright.”
“It won’t Mya. This isn’t the answer. It’s Ancient Magic that you don’t know about; they don’t want you to know about it. Once we get to Seringdon you’ll be safe and then Nage and the others will discuss what to do.”
“I’m really sorry Rynon, but I have to do this.” Mya walked off in the forest. Rynon did not stop her, though he later followed.
   Mya stepped into the open clearing and waited. They would come. Her scent could not be masked here. A while passed before movement happened. Mya braced herself as the familiar feeling overcame her. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before reopening them. The piercing red eyes stared back at her. They were here. A few metres apart, and she was at their mercy.
Winds swept through the forest, whipping through the campsite. Nage awoke in an instant.
“She’s gone to them. She’s given herself up to the shadows!” She cried, waking the other campers. Mya’s father looked up. His faced showed it all, he knew what would happen to her.
   They set off immediately, in the direction of the wind.
Mya stared into the eyes of the shadows, heart pounding and panic rising in her throat.
A hissing noise entered Mya’s ears, followed by the strange chanting. It was coming from the shadows.
The chanting continued.
Louder.
Louder.
Mya stood frozen, in fear.
Blinding lights burst from the trees.
Roars erupted throughout the forest.
Louder.
Louder.
Silence.

Reviews

Written by stevetroster (1549 comments posted) 14th November 2007
For someone of your age, this is not a bad effort. There are, however, lots of areas that need tidying up with respect to grammar. 
I don’t have time to spag the whole thing, but here are a few. If you need any more help you can PM me. 
 
“Run child, run” The trees whispered, urging her on further. (No comma and incorrect capital on The) 
 
‘Run child, run,’ whispered the trees, urging her on. 
 
She ran, feet pounding against the leave (leaf) laden forest floor. 
 
Her heart beat frantically against its chest wall. Her lungs burned, grasping at available air. She wanted to give up. Her body wanted to give up. But she couldn’t, not now. They would get her. They were after her. (You’ve told us that they will get her, so no need to tell us that they are after her. It’s obvious.) 
 
She wanted to give up, her whole body wanted to give up. Her heart beat frantically inside her chest and her lungs burned, gasping for breath. But she couldn’t stop, not now. They would catch her. 
 
Darkness settled in; clawing at the light through the trees. (If darkness had settled in, would there be light through the trees?). 
 
Her body screamed at her to stop. Every part of her ached. (Haven’t we already done this bit?). 
 
An aging lady, wispy grey hair framing her face, walked over to where Mya was, sobbing in the arms of another lady.  
 
An aging woman with wispy grey hair framing her oval face, walked over to where Mya stood sobbing in the arms of the other woman.  
 
She looked up, and saw that the man had swollen eyes. (The man!? This is her father!!)  
 
She looked up at her father’s swollen eyes 
 
 
Just a small selection that I hope will help. 
All the best, 
Steve. 

Written by Fledermaus (3286 comments posted) 14th November 2007
I usually don't care what age a writer is, yet I am impressed and if I'd be your teacher I'd certainly reward this with a good mark. I agree with most of the things Steve mentions above, although some of them are just a matter of taste: 
 
"Darkness settled in; clawing at the light through the trees." 
and 
"An aging lady, wispy grey hair framing her face" 
sound OK to me. 
 
The beginning was especially strong. The style went well with the scary atmosphere. I expected a somewhat different end, for now it comes a bit abrupt (unless of course you're going to continue this somehow). 
 
Alltogether a very nice piece.

Written by stevetroster (1549 comments posted) 14th November 2007
Mya rushed over, and collapsed into a lady’s arms.  
An aging lady, wispy grey hair framing her face, walked over to where Mya was, sobbing in the arms of another lady. 
 
Maus, it may sound okay to a Dutchman, but calling all of the women ladies makes the piece sound immature (IMO). It’s lady as opposed to Lady, yet even so it is a bit much to expect all of the female characters to be polite dignified women from refined family backgrounds. 
 
Most of the people I know would not say “I was standing at the bus stop when this lady came along, followed by another lady and then another lady.” A woman came along, a young woman, a girl, etc, but not lady. 
 
Anyway, I’m debating English 'real world' grammar on someone else’s work. 
I’ll go now. 
Steve.  
 

Written by WildeThing (6 comments posted) 15th November 2007
I have to agree with what has been written thus far, an incredible start for one so young. Considering you have decided to join this community, demonstrating that you are willing to provide and receive constructive criticism, I can only believe that you will get stronger and stronger as you grow into your writing. 
 
You already show a healthy understanding of several aspects of writing. For instance, you seem to have a feel for atmosphere (something that I believe Fledermaus has already picked up on). You also seem to have a pretty decent sense for fluid narrative structure. You obviously favor lush description. It's one of your proclivities; run with it. However, try to make your descriptions even more idiosyncratic. Avoid cliche, and surprise your reader. 
 
Also, something that I have noticed with young writers is that they sometimes have trouble with dialogue. I'll read whole stories by an inexperienced writer in which no one says a thing. This is not a problem you seem to have, and I applaud you for your inclusion of some relatively naturalistic dialogue. It's nice to see, and might be an indication that you could give scriptwriting a try as well. 
 
One bit of criticism I can give in reference to the dialogue, though, is that it is a prime area to add some action to your writing, and action can transmit characterization even more than merely telling the reader how someone feels. For example, when Mya has her conversation with Rynon, Rynon seems to give some convincing (albeit cryptic) reasons for why Mya shouldn't go into the forest, yet he doesn't stop her when she walks past. If all we get from Rynon is dialogue, we have to assume that he believes in what he's saying. Then why in the world would he just let her go? If you add action; however, something to show us that Rynon has doubts (i.e. his not looking her in the eye, wringing of his hands, holding his breath in an attempt to seem brave, some nervous twitch which only he has [These are horrible examples; you can come up with something far more creative]), then we'll better understand why he lets her slip by. 
 
Another example of where action could transmit a sense of character is in that part of the story in which they are walking to Seringdon: 
 
"Her father strode away from Mya, as though to hide his guilt from her. He knew, from experience, that the shadows would stop at nothing to get her." 
 
I have two points to make about this passage. The first is that it would be a prime place to add some more action and descriptors about Mya's father to show us his guilt and experience. You tell us that he has strayed away from Mya, which shows us he feels guilty, a good start. What else about his demeanor shows his guilt. What about his physicality shows his experience? Does he take charge of the group in any way, give orders to some younger men, etc. My second point is that this is one area in your story in which you have an arbitrary point of view shift. The story is told, unless I'm wrong, in third-person limited. For the most part, you keep us close to Mya. We see things from her perspective. The shift into her father's mind is a bit jarring. 
 
I seem to have written a lot, and I don't want to overload you. The truth is that I'm really just excited to see someone so young with such a natural touch. I want you to have as much helpful criticism as you can get so you can improve and develop that innate talent you already possess. Best of luck. I look forward to reading more of your work. 

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