Friday, 2 November 2012


Here is the first part to my short story. Hope you enjoy.

Olivia was twelve years old when it happened. It was imprinted into her memory. She remembered the dull autumn day that made all the fall colours stand out. The air smelled like Grandma's basement-damp and musty. Olivia, who was at the park that day sitting on a swing could still see those three leaves that were at her feet. One was Yellow with brown spots and the other two were red and burnt orange. She remembered staring at them before kicking at them.
She sat on her swing that day swinging ever so slightly back and forth thinking of not much of anything. It was just one of those kind of moods.
Of course she would get into trouble for this because she would lose track of time and be late getting home for supper. Her Mother would shake her head at her and point her to the bathroom to wash up. It was her Mother's wordless "I give up speech".
But this day Olivia sighed bringing herself back into reality and that was when she realised she wasn't alone. There was someone sitting in the swing next to her and she could tell it was a boy-an older boy-maybe 16 or 17.
Olivia didn't look directly at him, just from the corner of her eye. He was wearing a dark navy hoodie and  the hood was pulled over his head with just a bit of blond hair showing. His runners were white and black.
She could still remember how her heart took a faster pace as she waited for him to say something but he never did.
Olivia's parents had warned her of strangers. Ever since the incident last fall, the same time as this   was, strangers were to be viewed with caution.  Thinking back she thought she had handled herself quite well. She didn't scream for help or try to run for it because what if he had caught her?
No, she had very quietly got up and started to walk away like there was nothing to be afraid of.
The only sound she had heard was the creaking of the swing she had got out of. It wasn't until she was a fair piece away when she heard the sound of the swing creaking and she instantly knew that he had gotten up. Was he coming towards her? She had made the decision to not look.
She did make it home that day but after that she remembered looking at every boy who wore a dark navy hoodie with the hood pulled over their head. And if they had blond hair with black and white runners, her chest would prickle.
That was four years ago and now there was another incident. There had been a body of a young girl found by the playground-the very same playground where she had spent time. The shocked neighbourhood all but locked their children up. Councillors had come to the school to talk to us  about "strangers". We were not to travel alone.
Olivia's friend Lily and her walked home from school that day, at least to the corner where she watched her friend go down the street to her house. She had another block to go. Before she crossed the road she looked both ways and on the opposite side to where she was standing, there was a boy. He was wearing a dark navy hoodie with the hood pulled over his head and she could see his blond hair. He  wore black and white runners and he was coming towards her.

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