Sam Bowring - Prophecy's Ruin

Kaja raised her face above the root – she had to know if the figure had seen her. For a moment it stood as still as the rock that surrounded it. Then it moved forward, and Kaja had to suppress a gasp as it stepped into the air and floated slowly down from the high cave to land softly on the grass. There it paused again, and she had the most horrible sensation that it was searching for her. She stiffened, ready to jump and run the instant its shrouded face turned to her …but the hidden gaze passed on.

There was a rustling in the leaves by her side and a tiny mouse appeared. It seemed unafraid as it came to a stop on the root just in front of Kaja’s peeking eyes. Go away, she willed it miserably. Instead the mouse sat up on its hind legs, twitching its nose at her. It gave a soft squeak and bounded down the other side. Kaja watched as it raced into the clearing, heading straight for the figure. The figure’s head snapped over and the mouse came to a stop. The little creature began to squeak again, waggling its whiskers, apparently unworried by the cloaked figure. The figure whispered back, and with a terrifying certainty Kaja knew that the mouse was betraying her presence.

The figure reached down towards the mouse, and this time Kaja could not help but gasp. The hand it held out was black and skeletal!

After her gasp, the thing most certainly knew she was there; it turned its head right to her. A moment later Kaja was on her feet, dashing away through the trees, squealing uncontrollably in panic. Faster and faster she went as she imagined the creature coming after her, floating through the trees, its skeleton hands reaching for her. She screamed out to anyone who might be searching for her, ignoring the burning pain of her breathlessness, the branches that scratched her as she went.

Back in the clearing, the figure stared after her. Eventually it turned back to the mouse, stroking it behind the ears with a bone finger. The mouse squeaked approval.

‘That was clumsy,’ said the figure in a voice that echoed.

He drew back his hood to reveal a charred and blackened skull beneath, cheekbones rough and crumbling away, teeth like charcoal blocks, eye sockets empty.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose it’s time to move on again.’

The mouse squeaked, leaped free of the hard palm and raced away into the wood.

‘Goodbye to you too,’ said Fazel, and sighed.

Sam Bowring is a television writer, playwright and stand-up comedian. His previously published works include two books for children, Sir Joshua and the Unprofessional Dragon and The Zoo of Magical and Mythological Creatures . He lives in Sydney, Australia.