“You little scum; you’d better know who you’ve crossed.” His face was a scarlet shadow and his eyes were slits of fury. I stood my ground and told him not to talk to me like that. The older boy clenched his teeth and shoved me against the wall. I could hear my heart pound; feel the pulse in my neck and the blood in my head.
“You stupid, slimy, sorry, silly saddo!” His spit was flying into my face. I did all I could think of and swiftly kicked his shin. The boy cursed and yelled, and then the whole world was still. Trying to be brave and victorious, I stated,
“That’s what you get when you mess with me!”
The snow crawls up my trainers. The collapsing sky rests on my head. The cold eats away at my face as I crunch homeward. Young children chuckle and scream as a freezing catapult lands on their faces and I grin with delight as I continue on home. My garden seems so irresistible, when there are endless possibilities of amusing activities to be done. As I create a trail of footsteps, I revisit the past events of the day.
I sat next to Georgia Banks in maths. Georgia has magnificent waves of orange hair. Whilst she questioned me about percentages, some of it drifted onto my shoulder. The day got even better when Tommy quite rightly proclaimed that it was snowing. The whole class lost all concentration on school! But then at lunch time, I’d crossed an older boy, notorious for getting suspended and fighting. Honestly, I was petrified he was going to do something much worse than he did to me.
I slip and fall on ghostly black ice. The snow slowly spreads around my behind. My skin glows as I scan the streets frantically for any familiar faces. Soon after proceeding, I hear someone behind me. It must be another person enjoying the snow. I turn the corner, the footsteps follow. I cross the road, the extra crunching close behind; I stop and there is silence. Suddenly, I twist my body to see the person the foot steps belong to. A hood, a scarf, head to toe in black. My head is swirling, I spin back around and stride.
Almost power walking, I strut towards my house. The foot steps match my pace. I forget about trying to get home and attempt to lose the hooded figure. I tear at my nails as I begin to run. The anonymous person is my shadow and extremely near me. The shadow is only so many paces away. I am utterly lost; this is unknown territory. Inattentive to the places I pass, I rush past street name after street name. The pursuing crunch is heading the same way.
My heart is beating so loudly, I can hear it over my foot steps and the person’s behind me. My breath is creating a misty fog before me and my hands are shaking, now uncontrollably. My chest is on fire and my waist is ripping. I slow down slightly and sure enough, the foot steps decelerate. I can’t take the bloody taste in my mouth or the unbearable pain in my knees anymore!
I run with all my final might to the end of the road. But, to my absolute horror, a frightful sight appears ahead of me. A dead end. I turn reluctantly to face my follower. I shake and shiver, completely out of control of my own body. And for the first time, the figure speaks.
“Dead end, hey? Game up!” He sneers. His voice is deep and gruff. It comes out croaky, almost hoarse from all the running.
“Who are you?” I whisper, “What do you want from me?” I say progressing to a shout. The black shadow moves stealthily towards me. He shoves me back against the wall. The cold air bites my nose and ears. My eyes dart around looking for help. My fists clench into tough balls of steel. Teeth gritted, I stand tall and shrug him off.
“What do I want from you?”
He takes off, runs to the other side of the road. The world is spinning and fuzzy, I feel like I’m in a dreadful nightmare. The figure is next to me just as quickly as he fled. He lashes out at the wall.