94
Creative Writing
The Woman in Black
I pushed the gate slowly, the hard rust scraping my hand.
It was black and lopsided, squeaking menacingly as it
moved. As I stepped forward I noticed the large dark slabs
towering over the yellow grass. The air was cold and grey;
so clear, it was sharp to my mouth. Creeping and dancing
among the gravestones were thorny weeds carrying
indigo buds that were covered in prickles. I exclaimed as
blood dripped frommy finger, a tiny droplet escaping and
falling into the still and lifeless water below, clogging up
the earth. And as it rippled, I saw the reflection. It was her.
She wafted silently behind me, her head covered by a
ragged lace veil. Her clothes were long and drooping and
everything was black. Black as night, fear, death, despair,
evil. I knew that she had come for me. With all of my
courage, I stared into her depths, attempting to meet her
eyes. That was if she had any. After I had been still for two
minutes, I reached them. They were black. I fled, my legs
getting tangled and swallowed up by thorns and weeds.
I fell three times, each with more impact on my spindly
bones, my blistered hands, my pale face and my grazed
knees.
I was besidemyself with anger. I lay on the grass, wheezing,
andmy heart drummed throughmy limbs. In the distance,
I heard the town clock strike twelve and I looked over at
the woodland shining in the silver light. She was there
again, perched, like a crow in the undergrowth. But I could
not run any more. She vanished then reappeared inches
in front of me. She lifted her veil…her face was dark and
mysterious, much as I had imagined. Her lips were like
dying flowers, her skin a stark white. I smiled at her. Her
face hardened as her eyes met mine.
Alex Rowlands Y7
