The gun. Black, rapid-fire and well-looked after, held to her temple in a tense grip. Her full red lips quivered, while the sweat on her brow slowly trickled down her face like tiny icicles. The hand holding the gun was old, scarred and dripping with blood. She was the second murder.
In a mysterious ancient forest, lies a modern day Shakespearean tragedy, coming to life. Two teenagers wandered into the Grouvenoff entrance on a frosty winter evening. The innocent star-crossed lovers had only each other to hold as their fate unravelled. The leaves crunched under their feet while the willow trees danced around them. A figure dashed to the ground near them, and horror struck both their faces. They froze in place and waited for their doom. Then suddenly, two delicate rabbit-shaped ears emerged from behind a log and scurried away into the distance. Relief engulfed them and their anxiety melted away.
They continued their journey, and not soon later, a house- like structure appeared on the horizon. The gentle, homely glow of a fire cascaded out of the delicate little window. This warmth and innocence lured the young couple towards the portal and to the beginning of their end.
The house was definitely not a home. The welcoming glow was now deprived of its mystery, and revealed the portal to Grouvenoff. They were totally oblivious of their destiny. They slowly edged towards it, daring to take a quick glance down, and two hands sprung from the hidden darkness and shoved them plummeting down to the danger below. They fell for an eternity, colours whirled and memories flashed and then faded before their eyes. Emotions mixed together in their stomachs and the boy looked as his girlfriend was torn apart. As their eyes met, their descent to nowhere came to an abrupt stop and they landed in Grouvenoff.
The land of nowhere told its story quickly. Colour clearly was not heard of and all brightness and hope was sucked out of the enthusiastic, young teenagers. Innocence was swapped for fear, and an invisible force overpowered any strength they still had and pinned them to the floor. There was no escape now, their rescuer’s boat clearly sunk on the way, into a sea of doom. Grouvenoff is grey and morbid. Death loomed in the air and swallowed up the souls of every inhabitant. Every civilian wandered around like a lost soldier without a war to fight.
The force holding them down didn’t need to persevere much longer, the battle was over and their prosecutors had arrived. Dragged to a derelict, dangerous looking temple in which all faith had been destroyed. Inside the extravagant stained glass windows had been carelessly shattered in to glittery knives of death and the walls were burnt black. The lovers thought they would be the only ones coming to an end, until they saw it.
A knife glistened in the candle light, and swung towards a child of about seven. Mousy hair and blue eyed, it didn’t show even a glimpse of emotion, not even a quiver of fear. It had no time to scream, and the boy fought to break free from the relentless grip of their capturers to save the child. It was too late, blood covered the floor and the two teenagers wept, both for the child and what was to happen to them.
The girl was forced to a chair and bound to it with harsh, rough ropes. She didn’t say a word, not even a good bye to her own boyfriend, who screamed from deep within his sole, as they tied her down. She knew there was no escape, but he wasn’t about to see the one he loved, fade away into nothing. Then they were both stunned as they heard the click of a bullet being placed into the barrel of a gun. It was held to her temple, and she silently said her last goodbye.
By Katie Loui