January 8, 2017 by thewashingteenian
Mark ran up to Mackenzie and said, “ We have to go NOW!” His heart was pounding out of his chest.
“What is wrong? what’s happening?” Mackenzie said wide-eyed and worried.
“It’s him! It’s the dark figure from when we were 12. He is outside. We must get him out of here.” Mackenzie grabbed everything they might have needed and Mark started towards the back door so that he and Mackenzie wouldn’t be seen by the figure of evil. He opened the closet door and grabbed his and Mackenzie’s coat.
When he turned around, no one was there.
Then he heard it.
Mark ran out the front door and saw something he thought he would never see in his life. He saw Mackenzie being sucked in by a strong, inhaling force created by the dark figure’s mouth.
He ran closer to her and reached for her arm and she reached for his. The finally grabbed hold of each other, and Mark pulled and pulled. His hands were sweaty causing Mackenzie to start sliding from his hands.
“I won’t let him take you,” Mark said before their hands slid apart. Both the dark figure and Mackenzie were both floating in the air before purple sparkles filled that spot in the sky and the two vanished in the afternoon light.
Mark couldn’t believe it. He had lost he again. The dark figure didn’t return the next day or the next. He waited and waited the dark figure had never appeared. He remembered something, something he had not remembered before. He remembered the sign that he saw when he arrived at the dreaded place. It had said, “Welcome to the Atlantic Shore.”
He grabbed the supplies that Mackenzie had packed for when they were ready to leave and hopped in the rugged old car that Mrs. Lane had owned and started down the mountain. He started heading east and traveled for a whole 24 hours until he reached his destination. He saw that sign that he saw when he first arrived at that place. Again, the beach was bare. No one seemed to be there. He searched the shoreline.
Then, the dark figure that he dreaded so appeared. As he walked up to it he began to mutter to himself. I don’t know what. The figure stood still not saying a word or moving. Not even breathing. Mark looked behind the dark figure seeing hundreds of thousands of people behind.
He scanned the area of people and as he was going he say a face he recognized. He had not seen this face in a long time. It was Mrs. Lane, his foster mother. Mark ran to her, toward his mother. Mrs. Lane did nothing. Mark’s eyes started watering. He was so relieved to see his mother’s face again.
A little farther down the line was Mackenzie. Once Mark spotted her all he did was pull and she broke free from the trance and fell to the ground. She and Mark hugged and set Mrs. Lane free, too. All these years they thought she was gone, but she had just been in this trance for many years.
Mark, Mackenzie and Mrs. Lane walked up the beach.
Mark spotted the glass bottle he had thrown at the figure when he was twelve. He picked it up planning to throw it at the figure again . As he did so, the figure awoke. The figure spoke Mark’s name, and when the bottle had released from his hands the dark figure said the following, “I am your grandfather.” It was too late. The bottle had collided with him. And he disappeared.
Mark stood with his eye wide.