Hidden by Evelyn Kitson

Evelyn has just turned 13 years old and is already a fantastic writer. She has loved writing since she able to write. Although she aims to have a career in law, she also intends to become a published author. Read on and see if you too, are blown away by the short horror story below.

A scream pierced the air.
Emma flew down the pavement, sweat pouring in rivers down her forehead despite the winter chill seeping into her bones.
But it wasn’t the weather making her blood run cold.

As her legs were about to give up, the road ended. Icey terror grasped her heart.
It was coming closer.
Without thinking twice, Emma darted off course and sprinted off into a nearby forest. As soon as she had set foot into the woods she regretted it. The only light coming through were thin strands of pale moonlight filtering in through the condensed trees.
But Emma’s life was on the line here. Ignoring the lonely whisper of the trees swaying in the wind, she plunged into the forest and was swallowed by the trees.

Emma sprinted through the woodland, breathing hard. Branches like hands clawed at her and whipped her face. The ground began to slowly tilt and soon she was hurtling down a steep slope. The forest floor was slick with mud and her feet were sliding in every direction until they were yanked out from under her. Emma slammed down with a sickening thud and pain lacerated through her spine. She couldn’t breathe. She painfully clambered up and tried to carry on – but then she was falling, limbs bent and dirt in her mouth.

Blackness. Inky darkness all around her. And pain. So much pain.
Was she dead? The thought lingered in the air like a cloud of poison. Panic constricted her throat. Terror tightened its iron bars around her breast. She weakly thrashed and hit… dirt. Compacted, almost solid, but still dirt.
But her relief was short lived. The pure agony in her leg felt like fire. Raw, uncontrolled fire, burning through her tendons, a supernova of pain. Her mind feebly grasped at the tendrils of consciousness, but the torment was too much, and she allowed herself to be carried away.

Emma saw herself, earlier that cursed night, waking up. She tried to reach out, to tell herself to run, but her mouth was unable to open.
So all she could do was watch, with helpless terror, as her past self gingerly drew back the covers and looked into the endless, black expanse under the bed.
She was in her parent’s room, her vision cloudy. Emma heard a muffled scream. Her ears pounded. Her knees gave way. Her head split. Red surrounded her, a crimson oblivion.
And then she was running, faster than she ever had before.

Emma gasped and clawed at the dirt as she was harshly ripped from that place, back into the real world, full of brutal pain and fear. Tears silently trickled down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt and blood on her face. Oh, how she wished now for the sweet release of death.
And it was willing to greet her, to cradle her in its arms of infinity. She could feel the pain lift, the panic that had constricted her chest loosen.
A twig snapped.
The pain shot back into her leg.
Another twig snapped.
The iron clamps seized her once again.
She held what little remaining breath she had as the leaves around the top of the burrow crinkled under paws.
Emma knew this wasn’t a wolf – it had found her.
It stopped. Horror seized Emma. Her alarms exploded. Her fingers twitched. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, each reverberating beat sending shocks of fear down her.
It moved away, the sound receding into the night.
Emma felt the tidal wave of relief crash down on her. As far-fetched as the idea seemed, she could not help a flicker of hope sparkle in her mind. She might live.
But she would be alone. There was no one left in the world for her. She would wander this vast world isolated, the ache of loneliness growing in her body like a cancer.
Then Emma thought of her. She couldn’t leave her. Not after all this.
Emma grabbed the roots, a newfound fire of determination burning in her. Emma’s weak muscles screamed in pain, but she would not let go. Tears prickled her eyes. Sweat trickled down her forehead. But movement occurred, and slowly but surely, she began to move up the slope.

The cold air on her face was a welcome sensation. The claustrophobia began to recede. Emma looked down the burrow. If it had come down there…she shuddered to think.
Where to now? Emma painfully rose. Not home.
Never home.
It was still so dark. A suffocating blackness. She tentatively turned – and stopped. The sight that met her eyes almost stopped her heart. Her blood ran cold.
A pair of red eyes, glinting in the darkness.
A scream pierced the air.

About Jennifer Reed