ENGLISH
Creative Writing Contest This year, The Exonian ran a creative writing competition with two categories: one flash fiction based on an image of Cathedral Green of between 100 and 150 words; one for fiction of 500-800 words on the theme of isolation. Here are our chosen pieces that we think really encapsulate the creativity of our school community. Enormous congratulations to our winners!
ALONE by
MATHEW SHEARS
He opened his eyes. The grey, turbulent sky loomed ominously above his head. He felt the roughness of the damp tarmac digging into his bare back. He rose to his feet groggily, his head spinning, not fully understanding where he was. He stood there, in disbelief of what he saw right all around him for what seemed like hours, but was probably more like minutes. He tried pinching himself, punching himself and even slapping himself in the face, but nothing worked. This wasn’t some sick, twisted nightmare but real life, and he was living it. He was standing in the middle of a junction on the high street of the city where he lived, but something was very wrong. The first thing he noticed was the derelict shops, which had once been colourful and thriving, with people constantly coming in and out, a flow of happiness. But now the once-bright storefronts and interiors were dark and faded, and the broken windows of the buildings seemed like some dark creature’s maw, waiting to swallow him up with its glass teeth. The next thing he noticed was how silent it was, unnaturally so. The city, 32 The Exonian 2021
which was usually so noisy and bustling with people rushing to and fro in their busy lives, tending to their businesses and having fun with their friends, was completely silent. It put his nerves on edge and he felt his hair stand up on end. Humans are hardwired to feel wary when things are completely silent, as it means that a predator is around, and to him it felt like the very city he called home was that predator. For the first time, he wondered what had happened. Where was everyone? Why was everyone gone but he was still here? Why had he woken up in the middle of the road? He decided not to dwell on his situation, and he made it his goal to look around the city and find someone or maybe get some clues about what had happened. He set off walking down the dilapidated streets of the place he once called home, hoping to find some idea of what had happened. He decided to go to his house first, to see if there were any remains of his former life. It took him about half an hour to reach his house, and by the time he got to the street his house was on, his bare feet were raw from the wet tarmac. His heart sank when he saw his home. The facade of the old red brick house was blackened and charred, and the interior of the house was all but destroyed. He stepped
inside the house, a single tear rolling down his cheek. This was supposed to be his place of refuge, his place of safety and love, and the fact that it was gone broke him. The wet, ashy carpet squelched beneath his feet, as he tramped in disbelief around his home. Flashes of memory flew through his head; of eating dinner with his parents, playing with his baby sister and having a barbecue with friends, which, although he didn’t want to admit it, he knew deep down that he would never have again. He desperately searched through the melted and destroyed rooms of the place he called home for something to show him that his previous life existed, and at last he found something. A framed photo of him and his family. It was somehow almost completely intact after the huge blaze that had taken over the house, with only the right corner of the photo. He clasped it to his chest, happy to have this memento of his family. He wondered if they were out there somewhere, away from the desolate remains of the once joyful city. After all, if he had survived whatever had caused all this destruction, maybe they had got out of the situation too. He thought of his baby sister, wondering how old she would be now, as it seemed like he had been gone for a long time, as his memories were foggy but definitely there. Since he didn’t find solace in his house, he decided to leave to go out in search of life. He trudged out of the house, taking one last look at the place with all its memories along with it, glad to have the photo to remind him of his family. He passed by decrepit cars, their paintwork flaking and rusty, their tyres rotted and flattened. He thought about how those very cars would have once driven at high speed along the smooth roads of the city, ferrying their drivers to where they needed to go. He walked, and walked, and walked. Although he was tired, he concluded that the best thing he could do was keep walking, as there was always a hope of civilization… right?
