Reading through the shortlist for the UEA FLY Festival (Festival of Literature for Young people) Short Story Competition made it very clear that the next generation have not, in fact, entirely abandoned the world of books for the lure of electronic gadgets and social media. The urgency in the writing, the breadth of vocabulary and the scope of their (often ghoulish) imaginings bode well for the next generation. Yesterday we posted the winners in the 11-14 age group. Today we feature the joint winners – it was too close to call – from the 15-18 year-olds, and once again we begin with the ominous opening conceived by YA writer and co-judge Alexander Gordon Smith (The Fury, the Furnace and Inventors series).
*****
Who knew that something so simple as falling asleep on the bus could lead to something so horrific…
“Hello?” I shout, making my way down the coach. The seats are empty, except for the coats and bags strewn everywhere. It’s like every single person in my class has just vanished into thin air. The teacher too, although that’s not exactly a terrible loss. Sunlight streams through the filthy windows, making it hard to see anything outside. I could swear I was only asleep for a minute!
I walk to the open doors and squint into the shimmering heat. We’re supposed to be at the University of East Anglia, some festival or other where there are loads of authors. It doesn’t look much like a university out there, though. There are no people, for one, just a long, empty street lined with trees. The only living thing in sight is a rabbit, which eyes me suspiciously as I clamber out of the coach.
Where is everyone?
“Hello?” I say again, my voice trembling. My pounding heart is the loudest thing in the world. “Is anybody there?”
There’s a building straight ahead and the door stands open. I glance left and right at the deserted campus. Then, swallowing my growing terror, I walk inside…
*****
JOINT WINNERS: EMILY ANDERSON (15) ROSEBERY SCHOOL & KRISTINA WERNER (15) PUTNEY HIGH SCHOOL
Emily’s ending
… I’ve only taken three steps through the door when I hear it slam shut behind me, leaving me in pitch black.
Suddenly a haunting singing voice floating from above shatters the silence. I feel strangely drawn to the flawless music, yet some instinct deep within me warns me not to trust it. With the unique sound as my guide, I creep through the unfamiliar building, and just as my eyes are adjusting, a blinding light causes me to scrunch them tight shut.
I’m seeing colourful spots when the music ends and an accented voice – Brazilian, like my grandmother? – begins to speak, and I see a female figure gliding along the opulent corridor above towards a wooden banister.
“I thought there was another,” she crows menacingly. “What allowed you to resist my charms, menina?” Before I’ve had the time to wonder what she means, I see everyone from the bus standing behind the mysterious woman. Immediately I know something unusual is going on; they all have oddly trancelike expressions on their blank faces. Somehow this situation reminds me of fairy tales read to me when I was younger, and studying the woman – her jet back hair, ghostly white dress and unnatural appearance – I am reminded of some mythological creature, but I can’t quite place it.
Oblivious to my racing mind, the woman continues “Ah well, I’ll just have to dispose of you, like the others not worth turning.” Cold terror crawls throughout my body, but then – your necklace, Selena. I reach my hand to the silver necklace constantly around my neck. Echoes of my grandmother’s voice reverberate through my mind – never take it off – and it all hits me in such a rush that I almost stumble back.
My grandmother gave me a book on Brazilian folklore, which must be where I recognise the woman – creature – from “You’re an encantado,” I gasp, and despite how ludicrous it sounds, it all makes sense as I remember glimpsing the river Yare on the way here. In the legend, encantados live in a utopic world as dolphins in rivers – the Amazon, originally – they can’t resist a party or festival, have superior musical ability, and their powers give them abilities such as mind control.
“We prefer bato encantado,” she replies, offended.
Then I realise the most important thing. Like lycanthropes, encantados are shape shifters, so perhaps they can be killed in the same way. Silver.
Somehow, without me noticing, the encantado has reached the bottom of the staircase. As she approaches me, a knife in her hand, I tug the dagger pendant on my neck, but nothing happens. The encantado lunges towards me, her knife aimed for my neck. But something stops her, like an invisible force the unknown powers of my necklace protect me, and finally the pendant comes off in my hand, expanding into a full-sized weapon. Without hesitating, I stab the blade into her heart and as she falls, so do my classmates upstairs.
And all at once the spell is broken.
*****
Kristina’s ending
… There is a single door to my right which has been left slightly ajar, and due to the weights near the bottom, should close by itself. But it doesn’t.
I step forward, and then stop in confusion. I am wearing school shoes that embarrass you in front of the whole school when you walk up in assembly; the type that, try as you may, can simply not be muffled. Yet not a single scrape of leather resounds on the wooden floor.
Inside, I find a classroom frozen in the perfect moment of a lesson. Yet there are no pupils. Pencil cases are creased in the perfect positions of fingers having rifled through them. Sentences on the screens of the laptops are left unfinished. The chairs are all pulled out as if people just got up to leave. Moving further into the classroom, I notice that the white board has a tiny flashing icon in a corner which reads ‘next page’. There is a sight smear of a fingerprint hovering above it. The teacher’s chair is the only one that has been left tucked under the desk.
Moving towards the window, I look out and start with relief at what I see in the distance.
My class is gathered outside in a huddle! Their voices reach me through the sheen of glass, as if the mute button has suddenly been turned off. I sprint out from the classroom, through the main door, and across the grass to join the welcoming sight of my friends. As I approach them at a run, I take in the flustered and urgent tones of my teacher, and the desperate looks my friends shoot me as they see me approaching. I skid to a halt. Right above them is a colossal slab of metal which droops in the air above the congregation. There is a sturdy ramp protruding from the underside, and I watch in amazement as my fellow students proceed up it. I start to move towards them, but find that although my feet are moving, I remain stationary. The teacher has caught sight of me and is screeching hysterically at me to run. I try with all my might, yet cannot for the life of me move even an inch. The ramp starts to lift with surprising speed for something made of such a heavy material, and my friends’ hyperactive bodies soon disappear. I stare up in horror as the tank of metal rises slowly. The feeling of complete and utter helplessness overcomes me as I am left rooted to the ground with all my friends being whisked away.
A huge screen crackled into life on the underbelly of the huge UFO. And on it, were two sentences that froze the blood in my veins.
EARTH EVACUATED. HUMAN POPULATION LEFT: ONE