Home Time (Wicked Young Writer Awards Finalist!)
He breathed out a plume of grey smoke and smirked in appreciation. If there was one thing the humans were good at, it was creating the most enjoyable ways to kill yourself: drugs, alcohol, fatty foods, but the best was definitely cigarettes. He felt the poisonous toxins flood through his system before he banished them with a simple flick of the wrist. He didn't have to be careful about it; the square was empty, as you would expect for ten to two in the morning. A cold breeze swept across the cobbles, picking up the autumn leaves and leading them in a waltz across the sky. He tucked the more rebellious strands of hair back behind his ears. It was too long to be fashionable in this world, but he didn't care; it complemented his red eyes perfectly. He took another long drag from his cigarette and leant back against the cold bronze of the statue that stood in the middle of the square. It was an impressive structure, intimidatingly tall and intricately carved. It was of a young woman holding a massive pocket watch that told the time. However, instead of numbers, there was a coloured stone to mark each hour, one for every world. Except for the stone for the sixth hour, which had been smashed in and blackened. The woman holding the pocket watch was long dead, one of many martyrs that had been immortalised for their heroism. He had known her. She was a human, shy and unassuming but the most powerful being in the whole of the Portals. She was called Alice. He had tried to kill her on more than one occasion. Ironic, that; sworn enemies for as long as he could remember and now he was relying on her to get home. His gaze landed on one of the shops bordering the square, a florist's with a deep green front and an impressive display of exotic flowers in the window. If he recalled correctly, a witch owned it; a pretty little thing with long brown hair who could kill you in an instant; your life leaving your body as she stared at you with her innocent green eyes and kind smile. That was the problem with witches; they were too smart, too tricky. Angels were impossible. But humans were the easiest prey. They lost their magic long ago, leaving them completely defenceless. At the first sign of danger, they were on their knees, begging for mercy with tears in their eyes, all dignity lost. Pathetic. The problem with easy prey though was that they weren't challenging enough, and he'd grown bored. Hopefully, he would find better entertainment back home. He sighed impatiently, grinding his cigarette butt under the heel of his boot. Atë buzzed onto his forehead, settling just above his left eyebrow. She was anxious to lift from his skin, for her ink to turn to flesh and sting a few people. Maybe he would let her, a kind of freedom present. But he was on the edge of his key being suspended and murdering wasn't going to help his case. Suddenly, the minute hand moved to twelve and the stone at two o'clock glowed deep vermillion that filled the square and ran through Alice's body, spilling out of her eyes and through the cracks in the door at the base of the statue. It pulsed like a heart, expanding and contracting in its socket. It was time to go home. His fingers itched with anticipation as he removed the ornate black key from his coat pocket and slotted it into the lock. He placed a hand on the door, the magic radiating from it stripping the layers of skin back from his fingers, revealing the black scales beneath. Atë swelled on his forehead, the black and red stripes that ran along her body growing more vibrant with each passing second. She spread her wings and with an excited buzz, broke through his skin and into the morning air. Her stinger, long and black and dripping with deadly poison, glinted in the fragments of the rising sun. He grinned, his long teeth suspended like icicles from his blackened gums. It felt so nice to be back in his original skin. With a purpose-filled shove, the door opened. Red mist flooded the square and the echoes of something unpleasant pierced the quiet of the morning. He took a final triumphant moment to look around and stepped out of this world and into another.
I wrote this piece a few hours before the deadline of the competition and nearly didn't enter. It feels a bit surreal to have done so well when I wrote it on a whim. I want to say thanks to my friend Hannah for recommending this competition to me.
I'll be going to London in June to the awards ceremony- even though its during my exam week. It's going to be amazing!
Hannah's Blog :
