Left Alone


It was a cold, dark and scary night, I was alone at home which overlooked Manchesterville. The mansion was quiet, so quiet that I could hear myself thinking aloud. The huge grandfather clock in the large sitting room was doing its usual jazz music but the jazz was quite monotonous at the moment. It was so quiet that every time a rat passed by, my heart skipped five beats. I sat on my favourite sofa in the living room and switched channel after channel to find something interesting to watch but there was none. Slowly and helplessly I dragged myself to the huge French window facing the north of the estate, littered with natural shrubbery. As I looked outside I realized that grey clouds were quickly covering the sky, casting scary shadows on the ground beneath. It seemed like it would rain soon.
Suddenly, I heard a muffle noise outside in the bushes beneath the window. Startled in fright, I turned to run upstairs to my room when I heard another muffle noise coming from the bushes. My heart quivered as horrifying scenes flowed through my mind.

“What made that disturbance?” I thought.
“Maybe it was my Baxter, my adorable dog who probably got stuck in the hedge after his rabbit chase,” I muttered.

Summoning courage, I took my huge black coat that Grandma Laurel Beerch gave me for my birthday, sliding outside to investigate the noise.

Outside the house was creeper, I wanted to jump back inside, but something kept me going. The huge moon sat in the sky grinning, displaying its stunning light, which was occasionally blocked by dark clouds. Shadows were everywhere in designs of interesting animals or was it my eyes playing tricks? The breeze was chilly, whispering old secret in my ears.

The ground bristled from the weight of my feet, adding to the music of nature. The night animals were “crick cracking” away and the coyotes were leading the chorus in the distance. Walking, around the back of the house, I saw a torch-light zigzagging a few yards away. My curiosity aroused, so I walked directly towards the light, not thinking about what danger could await me.

Unexpectedly, I felt a cold hand gripping my wrist; I turned around in panic to see who it was. Oh no, Alfred  Le Frey, the most wanted man in Manchesterville. My heart went lame and the blood drained from my cheeks. My body was trembling as my teeth chattered.

“So my princess, what are you doing out so late?” said Alfred in a harsh gruff voice.
“Oh, I almost forgot, mummy and daddy went to the Academy Awards,” he continued.
“Let go of me,” I whispered in fright.
“Let go of me,” he mimicked.

Alfred grabbed me, placed me over his shoulders like a bag of rice. I screamed, kicking him as he led me away from the mansion. After a long distance he stopped and forced me to sit on a stone as he tied my hands and legs. Alfred looked scary above me as I watched him in the moonlight. I felt the screams rising in my stomach again but that hardened look from him, brought up only sobs from my heaving chest. He wore denim jeans and coat, his face rough and mean with black hair that glistened in the moonlight.

“What will I do,” I thought as Alfred laid clothes on the ground.
“Get some sleep,” he demanded.
“Don’t try to run away because I will find you and kill you,” he said laughing.

Alfred went to sleep, but too afraid to fall asleep; I began contemplating a plan to escape. It began drizzling. Alfred was snoring at that point. I waited ten minutes, and then tugged at my hands as hard as I could. I had to loosen the knots on my hands so that I could reach over to Alfred’s bag. My hands became bruised but I  could not give up. After what seemed like eternity, the ropes on my hands were loosening slightly. Slowly I reached out to take a piece of rock near Alfred’s head. I felt a constriction in my throat; it felt like my digestive system crawled to my throat. Quietly, I struggled to cut the ropes tying my hands and feet with the rock. I was cutting, crying and fidgeting. Finally, I was able to get the ropes off.  Alfred still lay snoring, he stirred ever so slightly but I needed to escape, I would not back down now in fright. I got up from the ground, searching his bags for a mobile phone. I grabbed it and dashed into the bushes. The area did not look familiar; I was running with no sense of direction. Feeling breathless, I stopped, with shaking hands I dialled mom’s number but the phone service was inoperable.

It began raining heavier, it was cold and the night was unforgiving. Everywhere was wet; I stumbled over bushes and debris on the ground. The tears came down my cheeks, constantly blinding me.

“Was that a light,” I thought, I stopped to inspect.
I saw a flicker in the distance again.
“Let it not be Alfred,” I sobbed.

I struggle within, shivering in the rain, wondering whether to turn around or walk towards the light. I stared at the lights realizing it was not zigzagging. It could not be Alfred, that light is from a stationary object, not a torch-light. I felt a bit of hope, walking towards the illumination. Closer and brighter the light became, it was a house. I knocked on the door shivering in fright yet anticipation. A  girl  greeted me with a friendly smile, who invited me it. The tension in my throat began subsiding as the warmth of the room enveloped around me. The room was surely cosy but I changed my mind about that atmosphere when I saw Alfred Le Frey sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of the room, watching me with a sly smile on his face.


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