Voices | Teen Ink

Voices

July 4, 2015
By Willowcb BRONZE, Toronto, Other
Willowcb BRONZE, Toronto, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My feet crunched gravel as I sprinted down the path. The deluge of rain cut my face, working against me. The faster I ran, the more it pushed me back. My drenched sweater weighed me down, flapping uselessly against my skin. Above me, the intertwined maze of trees created a tunnel, seemingly with no end. No sun penetrated the gnarl of branches, leaving me in utter darkness. A tree root reached out with slender fingers and snagged my feet, bringing me to my knees. My hands cried out; my breath caught. The sudden silence was deafening.

Chunky mud flowed into the vast trenches on either side of the path, and weeds reached out to me as I continued to race foreword, ensnaring my legs and latching onto my feet. The quiet but curt whispers made my head throb, and the words sent a chill down my spine. Everything seemed to work against me; everything wanted them to catch me.

A few minuted passed and my breaths became shaky and uneven. A burning sensation gripped my throat, and turned each breath to fire. My shins were dull, throbbing, and mud splattered. I reached up and covered my ears, trying to block out the talk of the trees. Then, two vigorous, barbed teeth sunk into my heal. In a last attempt to save my life I threw myself over the side of the gutter, tumbling downhill and landing in a sinkhole of crushed rock. Through the thick fog, I could see the faint outline of four abnormally muscular wolves patrolling the edge of the slope. Sensing an advantage, I took off, running through the trench. Looking up, I saw that the wolves were running along side me on the path. They kicked up gravel as they ran, and it cascaded down the hill and pelted my face.

Then a scream echoed through the path, rustling the leaves, and nearly knocked me over. I stumbled before catching myself on the fence that acted as a wall to my right side. It was unmistakably the same voices that had been getting louder as I ran. The voices wanted me to get caught, and the further I went, the more anxious they became. Then I stood before a chain-link fence blocking my escape. The wolves, having run alongside me, were once again pacing at the top of the hill. My shaky hands gripped the barbed wire as I began my assent to the top. Around each opening there was a wire armed with spikes and coils. It was no doubt a fence to keep animals out of the neighbourhood standing on the other side. Each time I pulled myself higher, my hands were slashed open by a cable. At the top, five colossal spears blocked my destination. After much contemplation, I grabbed the spikes and launched myself over the edge. The screams were now louder than the rain, and I screech in pain. I felt blood streaming out of my ears, as if they were rejecting the voices. I locked eyes with a wolf, and fear rushed through my body, sending waves of shivers crashing down my spine. The wolf’s eyes were red.

My small wooden house was directly behind me, and I thundered towards it, emerging out of the path. My hands were scratched to the point where they were just flesh and bone, and I could feel my heart in my throat. I was covered in dirt, and I was traumatized. Feeling around my pockets, I realized with fright that my keys were not there. Feverishly looking around, I found that the wolves had disappeared, and so had the screams. With a clear head, I rapidly knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. Slowly, the handle twisted open, and I could hear the voices flooded my thoughts. Finally, the door swung in, and an unrecognizable man with an angled face stood before me. He hovered over my meagre frame, and just by the way he stood I was intimidated. Pushing a strand of damp hair off my face, I gathered the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry. Wrong house.” I winced at the raspiness and shakiness of my voice. All though I was positive I was at the correct place, I began my decent down the six steps that lead to the door.

“No,” his voice was deep and cold, and I could barely hear him over the shrill shrieks of the voices. “You have the right house, Bray.”

I was at the bottom of the stairs when I raised my gaze. His eyes were red.

The voices yelled one last time.

Rest in peace.



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