2014 School Magazine

LEFT BEHIND BY SCARLETT ST GEORGE (9G)

The colossal, concrete mass filled the darkening horizon. Still, it lived as a jarring obstacle in one’s line of view, even after being abandoned for thirty-four years. An icy wind blew through the cracks, past abandoned shop fronts. The smell of mould hung in the damp air. After the tragic event that late October, the girl’s parents left the city angry and grief-stricken. No one could face the trauma of coming back to Indooroopilly Shopping Town. In the weeks after ‘The Accident’, the shop owners cleared out their rented stores and moved on to find somewhere else to ply their trade. Faded graffiti now covered the smooth, grey walls. Trees and vines were pushing their way up through the ground floor to the levels above. Rumours circulated that the little girl’s ghost, vowing to get revenge on all the people who had seen her fall and done nothing, was trapped in the desolate, sad place. Clare was alone on the roof of the abandoned building, rugged up against the rank, frigid air. She was really, really bored and before she knew it, she was striding towards the well-trodden possum trail that led to the empty levels below. She edged her way gingerly down the escalator, long since rusted to a standstill. Enormous tree roots snaked down the mechanical treads. A sudden breeze picked up and whistled loudly through the crevices in the crumbling concrete and she shivered as she inched down the last few warped steps. The rampant jungle she discovered at the bottom contrasted starkly with the harsh concrete exterior. Clare was amazed at nature’s power to convert an awful, grey, man- made structure into something so organic and fresh. Clare’s senses were filled with the heady fragrance of strange flowers. Seeing the wild, lush grass, she tossed away her shoes and savoured the silky carpet beneath her feet. A chill wind picked up again and tore at Clare’s loose hair. She shivered inside her fleece jacket. It stopped as suddenly as it had started. Clare felt as if something had brushed past her, and she could see the grass being crushed as if someone stepped on it. A chill crept up her spine. The wind was whipping back; she could see the trees bending in its path towards her. Warnings screamed in her brain but her feet were plastered in place. Inhaling deeply, Clare tried to calm her mind. She was shaking. As the fierce wind ripped towards her, Clare squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Abruptly, the wind stopped. She dared open her eyes and was confronted by a pale and fragile girl grinning demonically at her. Clare’s scream pierced the quiet air. The girl grinned, as Clare turned to run and stumbled awkwardly. ‘I’m Grace,’ she laughed, vanished and reappeared in front of Clare. ‘What’s your name?’ Clare was baffled. ‘I don’t even know who you are,’ she breathed. She surveyed her surroundings, still trying to make sense of what was happening. She couldn’t be completely sure she wasn’t dreaming. Nature had reclaimed the building and transformed it into a dreamlike wonderland redolent with sounds and smells long since forgotten. It was a dense forest with possums poking their noses out to investigate the clumsy intruder. Clare could hear the raucous calls of hundreds of bats as they flocked to their evening meal. It was impossible to tell that the place had once been a thriving shopping centre. Desperation washed over the ghost girl’s face. ‘Please?’ Clare could hear the loneliness in the small voice. ‘Well, I guess I can’t… I can’t exactly leave you here,’ Clare said hesitantly. She had to strain to hear the reply. Clare tried to answer calmly, and failed. ‘I-I … I’m Clare,’ she stammered. ‘Can I come home with you, Clare?’ Grace wheedled.

‘Everyone else did.’ ■

CREATIONS / 069