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The Awakening
Fiction
 Created on 2-9-08
 Views(47)
 Story Rating G
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Chapter One
The Downfall of Rose Vale
The fire plummeted through the air. It poured downwards, in a spiralling motion, and burst on impact as it hit the ground. The fiery burst had caused much damage. The nearby wooden houses were aflame and there were screams coming from the nearby inhabitants. Those that had survived this conflagration of death were now rushing frantically for the hills.
Rose Vale, once a beautiful, scenic location in East Old Lincolnshire has now become a charred glen, what was once bright and green has now become dull and grey.
Chapter Two
The Survivors
It was a cold morning; the grass glistened in the morning sun. The grass had a frosty covering which crunched under the footsteps of the morning wildlife, like sheets of glass shattering into a thousand little pieces.
The survivors had now set-up camp, far in the mountain tops, at a place called Peakhill Glade. It was a peaceful place, filled with lush green foliage, and beautiful azure pools. The villagers sometimes came up here to fish and have picnics with their families. Peakhill Glade wasn’t the same that day. Sadness filled the air, like a thick blanket of gloom.
It would take the survivors a long time to come to terms with what had happened to their families and their town. Time crept by slowly; the sun had fully risen before someone finally spoke.
‘What did this to us?’ muttered one of the survivors.
It was a rhetorical question yet all of the others were thinking the same thing.
Chapter Three
The Decision
It was a full moon. Silvery light flooded the glade illuminating the trees surrounding the camp. The survivors were gathered around a fire which one of the campers had made earlier that night, people were talking now, groups had formed and the outlook was glum. It was apparent that there were tensions between the survivors, harmony within the camp would surely soon be lost.
Near one of the pools sat a group of four. There was a young woman, no older than 20 years old, who was very tall and had long blonde hair that was gently blowing in the breeze, and she had a doleful look on her face. Sat next to her was an elderly looking man. He had a long grey wispy beard, and wore large spectacles and a green winter robe, he appeared to be sleeping. Sat with them were two children, one girl and one boy. The girl was the eldest of the two, she had short brown hair and she too wore glasses. The boy on the other hand had long, ruffled dark hair; clutched in his arms was a large tattered book, green in colour with a gold emblem embroidered on the front. His name was Joseph.
The four of them sat there in silence for what seemed like hours until the little girl spoke.
‘Mother, why are we staying here?’ she asked, ‘Shouldn’t we head for the next town’?
‘Emily, the nearest town is fifty miles’ replied her mother ‘Your grandfather is sick, I don’t think he would make it’.
‘No’, the elderly man had woken, ‘Go without me, I will stay here at the glade, I do not want to slow you down’ he gasped.
‘Father, I shall not leave you’ exclaimed his daughter.
‘You must, Gloria, go to Hayvale and seek refuge there’, her father replied, he had a settled look on his face; his daughter knew there was nothing she could say to change his mind.
Chapter Four
Run
The sun had just started to rise; as it peeped up from behind the mountain tops it flooded Peakhill with golden warmth. It was a pleasant morning, still and peaceful. The sunlight illuminated all the tiny ice crystals and caused the pools to light up and become an even deeper shade of blue.
The survivors of the Rose Vale attack had just begun to wake up. The mother and her two children were packing their backpacks; they were getting ready for their journey to Hayvale. They hadn’t told the other survivors that they were planning to leave.
‘Planning on leaving?’ said a voice from one of the canvas tents. A young man popped his head out of the tent; his face was red with outrage.
‘Yes, me and my children are heading for Hayvale’ replied Gloria, a look of definiteness on her face.
‘Are you insane?’ shouted Peter; all eyes of the survivors were now fixed upon the two of them ‘You don’t know what’s out there, it could be murder’.
‘Well that’s a risk I’m willing to take’ she replied indignantly, ‘what do you suppose we do? Sit here and wait for the rest of our lives, living in fear?’
‘We should stick together!’ shouted a tall young woman with long brown hair.
‘Yes, I agree, we don’t know what’s out there’ said one of the other survivors.
‘Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing –
The old man was interrupted by a deafening crack! Screams emitted from the camp, as a large bolt of lightning struck the ground only feet away. Fearing for their lives the survivors burst into action. They began running down the mountain side, none looked back.
Peakhill was under attack.
Chapter Five
Cresent
Crack! Another bolt of lightning hit the ground. The survivors of the first attack were running down Cresent Perch, through the rocky outcrop.
‘Here! Get in the cave everyone!’ shouted Gloria.
The survivors had reached Cresent Cave. It was a small cave, dark and grey, the survivors pilled in through the small mouth. There was little light; the sun was blocked by two great Bristlecone Pines.
‘We shall stay here for the day, it isn’t safe to go out, not yet anyway’ said the tall young women with long brown hair which was now ruffled and dirty.
‘What was that?’ asked Emily, the eldest of Gloria’s children.
‘I don’t know, Emily’ she replied.
‘Wait!’ shouted Joseph. ‘Where’s grandfather?’
It was true; the boy’s grandfather was no where to be seen. Panic stricken, Gloria told her children to wait in the cave, she kissed them goodbye and set off for Peakhill.
Chapter Six
Peakhill in Ruins
When Gloria arrived at Peakhill she was horrified at the sight that beheld her. Peakhill was destroyed. The ground was black and still smoking from the bolts, rocks and boulders were scattered everywhere, the hill had collapsed.
Propped against a rock, near one of the pools, lay an old man. He was unconscious, his bloodstained robe torn.
‘Father!’ shouted Gloria. She ran over to the rock but her father did not reply.
‘No!’ she screamed, ‘Wake up! Wake up!’
The old mans eyelid flickered. Slowly he opened an eye.
‘Father, what happened?’ asked Gloria gingerly. ‘Are you injured?’
‘Glor…’ he stammered ‘it might come back, you have to stop...’
‘Stop what, father?’ she asked.
The elderly man sat up rigid and began to cough, blood dripping from his mouth and eyes.
‘Them’ said the old man breathlessly.
Sorry - it was quite a rubbish story after all.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On July 9th 2008 ooo0ash0ooo Said : | |
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Spoiler:
The grandfather dies - it was hard killing him off, but he had to go.
There is a third attack.
The survivors in the cave split up and some go to Hayvale but die on the way there.
Parts two and three to come. |
