Silent Screams
Category A: Highly Commended (2024) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Mahi Bhat
Mark ran.
He sprinted through the dense forest, the world around him becoming a blur of green. He pulled at his tie, tugging it free to the ground. Cold dew formed on his supple, ivory yellow skin, a stark contrast to the usual pale complexion he flaunted. His breath came out in ragged gasps as he fled, wind pushing back his brown, sepia-tinged hair, his skin sagging with each painful, lumbered trudge he took.
From behind, Mark’s pursuer continued their chase, unwavering determination and malice in each confident stride. The scent of earth and foliage obscured the soft glow of the moon, causing the secluded forest to appear more foreboding and eerie. The once familiar and inviting nuances of birch and pinecone now seemed unrecognizable, yet another fragrance amongst the many unknown. The sky, once a kaleidoscope of colours, was now a swirl of monochrome, with clouds waltzing lazily across the dreary, sullen tract. The sharp nudge of the wind caused his face to flush a crimson tint, as Mark struggled to keep his balance.
Mark bit his quivering lip, panting heavily. His vision grew blurry, and he clutched at his side, limping towards the sound of lapping water. A stream. The parchedness of his throat suddenly became apparent to him, as he desperately knelt down, the cool liquid trickling down his yearning throat, providing momentary solace.
Suddenly, he froze.
In the reflection of the translucent water, was the outline of a figure.
Mark instinctively spun around on the balls of his feet, his body tensing with fear, as the figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing their full countenance. Fiery, red hues glared daggers at Mark, a flaming greed visible in the contours of their face. They had a hunched back, and contorted jaw, with blackened purple veins forming a tapestry on their face. Crooked, yellow teeth jutted out, jagged and slurred breathing filling the atmosphere. Crows circled overhead, croaking a harsh melody of fear which mingled with the dreadful howls of the wind.
Mark’s pupils dilated, heart threatening to leap out of his chest, his fear palpable. He let out a strangled plea for help. It was in vain.
Here, alone, deep in the forest – no one heard.
As the figure loomed forward, Mark’s breath hitched, a perpetual ringing silence in his ears. They dragged Mark to the edge of the lake, seemingly oblivious to his forlorn pleas and bargains for freedom.
Mark’s frigid figure slowly sank into the water, bubbles floating to the surface.
His skin pruned, turning a pale, pallid white hue. Exhaustion took over after a while, his scrambling and kicking now coming to an end, succumbing to the cold embrace of the water.
Mark let a silent tear trickle slowly down the supple skin of his cheek, shutting his eyes tightly in a final gesture of defeat.
Then all went black, leaving only the lingering sound of Mark’s desolate shrieks for help and the malevolent cackle of his pursuer.