"Just Go Away"

“Just Go Away” Horror 492 Words Mark Jordan

Billy awoke from his slumber and shot straight up from his mattress. He was staring at a glowing stream of mist above his bed. He thought he had heard his mom calling him but this was not his mother. The mist had spun itself into a ball that was now hanging next to the ceiling. Shadows danced within the ball that now had the color of frosted glass and Billy had sensed that it was trying to tell him something bad. He couldn’t understand the hushed tones whispered into his ear. “Just go away, please”.

The crystal orb disappeared from Billy’s room. Billy pulled his blanket up over his sandy brown hair and closed his eyes as tight as he could. Sleep would come in fits and starts for Billy.

The warmth of the morning sun on his cheek awoke Billy. He looked over at his Wayne Gretzky poster and the night’s terror melted into the realm of dreams and nightmares. Dressing as fast as a ten year old could he grabbed his hockey gear and rushed downstairs. Bubububububah echoed down the hall as the heel of his trailing stick hit each tread of the staircase.
“Mom”, Billy yelled “I’m going down to the pond to practice.” There was no answer from his mother’s room but Billy knew she liked sleeping in on Saturday morning. He jumped into his boots and headed down the trail to the pond.

It was late March but the morning was crisp and Billy knew the ice would beat its best early in the day. Last Saturday his team had lost in the finals of the Youth tournament and the disappointment had fueled his desire to improve. The morning was quiet and Billy had the pond all to himself. He took off his boots and traded them for his skates, threw out the puck and glided out to the middle of the pond.

Billy was getting hungry now and the ice was slowing up as the temperature had been rising. He approached the goal from a sharp angle and shot a mean wrister, the puck found its way to the net, he skated behind the goalposts and raised his hands then he felt as if floating in mid-air for a moment then he was under the ice looking up at the bottom of his puck. Billy thrashed and flailed in desperation. It was cold and hard to move, but he managed to finally get to edge of the hole and pull himself out. Billy left the pond and trudged his way back up the path to his house.

“Mrs. Jackson I have given it my best shot but I cannot tell him.” said Ms.Devine as she packed her crystal ball, “He’s too scared when we try to reach him, he does not know he’s dead."

“Every day for the last 22 years I have heard Billy’s stick bumping down those stairs at exactly 6:09, and I cry.”