The Game Imogen Agnew In the forest, the leaves were so dense that whatever light managed to make it to the ground was tinted green. However, on this day there was even less light than usual as dark clouds had obscured the sun from view. Water fell from the sky, and each drop bounced from leaf to leaf. If it was lucky, it might even touch the ground, but that was rare. Often, they would get stuck. Lying on leaves, or even giving away the occasional spider web. The animals looked for shelter. Everything hid form the rain. Except for one. She ran with such panic and such distress that one would think death Himself was chasing her, and perhaps He was. All that could be heard, apart from her quick footsteps and startled breaths, were the irritably calm steps of someone with a purpose. She wondered what that purpose was. But then again, she decided, she didn’t want to know. It seemed that no matter how fast nor how far she ran, the steps never got any further away. But they were definitely walking. Suddenly, she slipped, splashing into a small patch of mud, groaning as she struggled to stand. Then the footsteps stopped right behind her. As she turned, her whole being shaking, she was met with the sight of a man who had dull, black eyes and dull, brown hair. It was matted to his forehead due to the rain, and his lips were curved into a serene smile as he looked down at her, a great contrast to the rigidness of his stance. After a moment of tense silence, his smile faded and a crease formed between his eyebrows. He clucked his tongue. ‘Silly girl,’ he scolded, as if she were a child; as if she were a pet. ‘You’ve ruined the game.’
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Write On! Magazine
Issue 6