The Sunday Mail
Andiswa Sasha Shoko Convent Girls, Form 3
Having ignored the warnings from her landlord, Tara made her way into the dingy apartment.“Doesn’t look like anyone would disappear here,” she said to herself as she examined the pictures of Melissa that were hung on the wall, “the girl that disappeared.” Tara looked around her and noticed an antique mirror in the corner of the room with a flashlight placed right beside it.
“How strange,” she thought to herself as she slowly walked towards the mirror. The light coming from the window reflected off the mirror and made the place sparkle.
Tara decided to move the mirror away from the light. She lifted the mirror but unfortunately, it was heavier than it looked so it fell, shards of glass landing everywhere.
“First day and I’m already breaking mirrors,” Tara thought as she bent down to pick up the broken glass.
She paused.
How was it possible that a mirror broke but there weren’t any tiny slivers of glass anywhere in sight?
She examined the broken glass and noticed they looked more like puzzle pieces. Looking at the mirror frame, she noticed the board had markings like those of a puzzle.Curiosity overwhelmed her.
Without thinking twice, she placed the shards according to the way it was drawn on the board. She inserted the last shard. Immediately, she heard the sound of metal grinding against metal and turned round, just in time to see a hidden door open.Tara starred into the darkness ahead of her. She thought of calling the landlord but decided against it.
She grabbed the flashlight and stood by the entrance. “Hello?” she called out, but nobody replied. Tara slowly made her way into the tunnel, guided by the light coming in from behind her. She inched forward, ignoring her heart thumping against her chest. She jumped as she heard that same sound again. The door was closing. Panic-stricken, she lunged for the door but was too late. She was trapped inside.
Tara groped around in the darkness, looking for a handle of some sort to open the door, but her efforts were all in vain. Remembering the flashlight she clutched tightly, she flicked it on. Nothing happened.
She shook the flashlight in an attempt to make it work but still no luck.All hope was lost. She was trapped.
She screamed for help, “HELP! Somebody please help-” she stopped abruptly as she felt a skeletal hand of some sort rest on her shoulder. She turned quickly.
The colour drained from her face.
She felt dizzy.
She stumbled forward as the flashlight flicked on, revealing the face of the shadow.“
Melissa?” she whispered in shock as the darkness swallowed her up.
She hit the ground. Dead.
Students, YOU CAN SEND YOUR ARTICLES THROUGH E-MAIL, FACEBOOK, WHATSAPP or TEXT Just app Charles Mushinga on 0772936678 or send your articles, pictures, poetry, art . . . to Charles Mushinga at [email protected] or [email protected] or follow Charles Mushinga on Facebook or @charlesmushinga on Twitter. You can also post articles to The Sunday Mail Bridge, PO Box 396, Harare or call 0772936678.
