Wandering into the unknown

MY eyes flickered open to a lush green forest. Towering, dark trees loomed over me.

Thin rays of sunlight raked through gaps in the leaves, casting shadows everywhere. Undergrowth thrived and flourished deep in the greenery. Thistles and bushes crept in the shadows. Leaves were rustling but the crickets blaring away into the air overcame them.

I could taste the bitter tang of sap and also my own sweat. The air was thick with the damp smell of fresh rain. I could feel the dense humidity of the air on my skin.

I got to my feet, utterly confused by my surroundings. Wasn’t I just sleeping on the sofa? Bubbles of memories floated around in my mind. They were bursting one by one. Only a few moments ago I remembered what a sofa was.

Now, I had not the slightest idea of what I thought of a few moments ago. It was almost as if I could see the bubbles popping and the memories dissipating.

Everything was now unfamiliar, I didn’t remember much, a grasp of English and slices of memories.

Suddenly, a man in black stepped out of the waving shadows. The forest was suddenly eerily silent, the trees had stopped swishing and the crickets had stopped chirping. Even the air tasted stale and cold.

I choked out what I could with what little I had left in my hollowed mind.

“I cried: “Help me please. Memories gone. Don’t understand. Confused.”

The man gave me a nasty grin, “I can help. Just step back. You’ll wake up soon enough.”

I stared in bewilderment, “Step back?” He walked in front of me and placed two fingers on my chest. And he pushed.

I stepped backwards, but my foot never did touch the ground. I fell through a seemingly endless hole covered by branches and leaves.

I grasped at the edge of the hole, but soon I was reaching for the light that was fading already.

I watched as the light slowly retreated, taking my sight, consciousness and the last hold on my memories away with it. Three pops, then nothing.

I braced myself for impact and waited for my inevitable fate now.

Suddenly, I felt the pain. I realised it was morning and I had fallen off the bed.

Thankfully, it was just a dream. – By Hazel Lim Zhan, 12

Write away!

We welcome original contributions (of not more than 600 words) from children aged 12 and below. The topic can be on anything you fancy. Please include your full name, age, gender, address and phone number. E-mail your stories to star2@thestar.com. my.

We have a treat (worth RM92.70), sponsored by Nandos Malaysia, for the writer who sends in the best short story contribution in October.