Hey there, everyone! Today I have a guest post by my oldest daughter, Sarah McKinney. Saturday, Sarah turns the magical age of 13. That’s right, she becomes a full fledged teenager. I thought I would celebrate her day in advance by showcasing a story she came up with for her 8th grade English Language Arts class. She based it on a horror game on Steam called Wick. Her writing prompt was to write it in the present tense so it’s a little different than what most readers are used to reading. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she enjoyed writing it.
A Game of “Wick”
Narrative Writing Essay
The pine needles that cover the forest floor crunch under your feet. You hear the loud creak of the old park gate as it opens slowly. You and your friends have decided to play a game called Wick. One person will be blindfolded and sent into the woods with a single light source, a candle, and will stay there until morning comes. Supposedly, dead children haunt the woods and if you go after hours, you can see the children by the light of a candle, and, supposedly, they will try to kill you. You all had drawn straws to see who would be left in the woods, and you were the losing party.
“Are you guys sure about this?” one of your friends asks.
“Yeah! There is no way that stupid little legend is true!” another replies. You hear a flare of a match and someone lighting a candle.
“But what if it is?” the third calls.
“Then we wouldn’t be doing it!” the other said enthusiastically.
“Well, we’ll see you at six! Don’t die!”
You wait until the sound of their footsteps have faded to remove the blindfold. The forest is black as pitch, save a glowing candle on the ground. You pick up the candle and look around. You could have sworn that you saw a small figure, but surely it was your eyes playing tricks on you. You begin to walk, glancing around occasionally. You know for a fact there have been children that have died here, but there is no way that legend is true, right?
Not so far after you begin this unrealistic game, you come across a small line of gravestones. You approach them cautiously, feeling a malevolent presence close by. Next to one of the gravestones is a candle. You light it with the one you are carrying and pick it up. As you look up, for a spit second, you see a young boy with a mask on. Your eyes are playing tricks on you, or you must be really tired, right? You shake your head to clear it and move on.
By now you have been in this forest for what feels like hours. You tilt you head up to look at the sky, but sure enough, you can’t see it through the cluster of branches above you. Instead of focusing on something that you cannot see, you focus on the path. A young boy comes from out of the trees and runs across your path. It appears to be the same boy you saw last time, but surely your sleep deprived brain is messing with you, right? You become more suspicious. Your tired brain making assumptions that are certainly wrong. That legend isn’t true! It is just an old wives’ tale to keep people from going into the forest at night!
You continue down the path, but not for long. There he is, that hallucination you have seen twice now. He drops from a tree and is running straight at you. You didn’t have time to think; you only run. You didn’t care if he is a hallucination at this point; you want to run, to escape what is surely a grizzly fate. You hold the candle in front of you, covering the flame from the wind that is rushing past you to keep it lit. Then, a strong gust of wind blows by you; the candle goes out.
You throw the candle on the ground and strain your muscles to run faster. You can hear him chasing you, but you don’t think to turn around. You just run. Your whole body hurts, but you keep running. You won’t risk slowing down. You feel a hand tighten around your wrist, and you turn around. The boy is there. He punches you and pain shoots through your body. You fall onto your back, and he punches you again. Your vison blurs. Another hit, your vision is darkening. Hit again, you can hardly see anything or move. Through your blurred vision, you see him looking at you with his smirking mask and a tilt of his head. You can tell he is taunting you, and you want to rip his mask off and destroy his smug face…but you can’t. He throws his head back and head-butts you. Everything goes black.
This is a work of fiction and Wick is the creation of Steam, and the story is the sole property of Sarah McKinney and reproduced her with her permission. Copyright September 2016.