At 20:24, the police had reached the place and seven minutes later, I knew that I wouldn’t die at 14. However those 420 seconds felt like a million years of living in apprehension, it was like being in a fairy tale where the spell of mortality was slowly deteriorating and I was as still as a graveyard in it. As the din of the vibrant flashing sirens charged toward the house, gradually becoming more and more clamorous, I heard the unhurried tiptoes transform into racing thuds of the large man’s footsteps, trying to escape, recklessly scrambling across the kitchen floor, right through the trepidation which leaked from my hiding spot and out into the cold dark depths of the night. Two police men clambered into my room and dashed my wardrobe open, retrieving me from the consternation and terror of the crime scene. As I was taken out I witnessed all the well thought obstacles he had placed in position so I couldn’t flee, everything slowed down into a dream like state, and my eyes circled the room and then caught sight of the meat chopping knife that lay on the creaking floor boards in the heart of the night’s darkness. A gloomy silence filled the air. As a shiver ran down my spine, my mind painted out the terrifying drone and blur of the murderous killer’s shadow dappled trail dropping the knife as he made it out and as far away as possible from here. One of the officers nudged at my arm, I snapped right out of it and carried on to walk out of the house in shock and dismay. I still remember the warmth and affection in which my parents hugged and squeezed the distress out of me. Within that moment my heart settled with relief and gratitude for being able to know that yesterday night wasn’t the last time that I would ever embrace my mum and dad.
A month and 15 deaths later the cops still had no clue on who this homicidal killer was. The outbreaks of murders started to spread, no place even close to the town had ever experianced such treachery. They called it the dying season.
And then it all changed, Amy’s body was found in her house. She was my best friend, you would never see us apart, we were like two cherries who shared the same stem, so close you could call us sisters , I…. I…I was just broken, it was like my heart had shattered on the floor in to a million shards of despair and misery. Still being able to recall her funeral, I could recollect how fortunate and blessed I felt, thankful that I was not one of the next victims to the jaws of death. The multiple subtle tears that rolled down my pale cheek, I can distinctly draw out the grief and desolation that rushed through the atmosphere and the pity raining down from the dingy sky. That’s when I had just about enough, I knew that all these deaths had to have a reason behind them whether it was just a mad man looking for a pass time or a person who had a deep-rooted moreover recondite meaning behind all the treachery he was committing.
Oh I almost forgot, let me actually introduce myself to you. My name is Elisha and I am 14 years old as you might have established. Originally born in Scotland but my parents are from Brazil and I have actually been raised in the suburbs of London, a small, which used to be one of the safest towns, called, Newham. I like to think of myself as a sharp and swift girl, you know someone who is always to the point. It was just decided that I was going to use all my skills, traits and pros to decode this error that has killed so many hopes and people.
All these miscellaneous deaths led to unease and angst striking my parents, I was forbidden to stay at home alone or go out anywhere. A constraint was tied around my life a manifold amount of times, like tying shoe laces thrice just so that they can never be undone. It was hopeless, an atrocious idea. I had never been so pessimistic in my life but it was clearly impossible to find any clues with my mum and dad on guard 24/7.
In monotony but still with a minor touch of cognizance, I was going to the kitchen to get a bowl of purple grapes. As I washed them underneath the one thousand daggers of water, stabbing through every fibre of the soft fruit. My vision landed upon a rugged, ripped snippet of scrunched up paper. I reached toward the paper, unfolded it and seas of satisfaction engulfed me. It had an address on it, written in a black ball pen, little bits of it were smudged, leaving a water colour effect. ’56 avenue lane, Stratford, E09 1HB’ this had to have fell out of his pocket when he was sprinting at the pace of a cheetah away from my house. I had accumulated my first clue! Except now I had the issue of how to get out of the house, to untangle.
There was no option. I was contrived to leave the house at night after my parent were asleep. As much as the culpability of treating my parents with deceit penetrated through my heart, my instincts forced this decision into me. At midday before the night I was to use this clue, I asked my dad to take the bike out of the old shed, which was almost falling apart.
“Why love, I can’t see how you will use it in this weather?” My dad delicately asked.
“I, just kind of miss it… Please I really badly want to have a quick go on it.”
He agreed and all was set. At 1:00am I creeped in to their room as inaudible as a mouse and then bolted out of the door checking thrice that I had locked it, there was no room for even a single mistake.
As I approached the inexplicable and sinister face of the building on my pink glittery bike in curiosity. I stood at the black eroded door, my adrenaline pumping with distress and anxiety, yet it didn’t stop me. The door creaked open revealing the haunted terror that resided inside. I stumbled in and was bewildered by the long, bare hallway that was lit buy a single, dim bulb. There were no other doors. Or windows. Or adornments. The walls were old-looking and a dirty brownish colour, sort of like the armpits of a worn-out, sweat-stained t-shirt. At the end of the hall I could see a little girl. She was just standing there. silent. Motionless, and lifeless almost. Her unnatural presence felt sort of creepy but compelled my attention. Unkempt, matted wisps of hair drifted across her face. Her dress was simple, and fell just above her knees. The fabric was plain and of the same colour pallet as the brown-stained appearance of the walls. Her shoeless feet were dirty. A ragged teddy bear with no eyes dangled from her one hand while the other was oddly raised to about the height of her head and laying, lifeless on the wall.
Behind me was just more barren hallway to nowhere; nothing but ceiling and
walls, and floor farther than I could see. Ahead was that strange girl with her
teddy bear and as much as I felt dread at the thought of approaching her, she
offered the only possible hope of the added information I craved. Cautiously, I
took a step toward the silent stranger, but…stopped.
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