Isobelle Carmody Award
for Creative Writing
The moon glistens in the sky as I run as fast as my legs can carry me.
Branches whip my face as I scramble helplessly for my life. It’s nearly
got me now. I can hear its menacing footsteps just behindme, teasing
me, or is that just the thumping of my panicked heart? Tears stream
down my face as I grasp the straw hat tightly. I shut my eyes as the
monster attacks, feeling it rip me apart, making me suffer. A root
catches my foot and I tumble onto the hard ground. Darkness creeps
into the corners of my eyes, pulling me under, flooding my cold,
A picture appears in my mind. My parents are smiling, resting on our
bright red picnic rug. My mother’s sweet, beautiful face is shaded by
her favourite hat, a straw one with colourful intricately detailed
ribbons. I can’t remember a time happier than this. I begin to wade
into the shallows of a nearby stream, surrounded by sky high trees
swaying freely in the breeze. My younger brother follows and soon
we find ourselves surrounded by small fish that twirl in-between our
legs. I move deeper into the stream so that the water is just up to my
hip, not daring to go any further for fear of being swept away by the
‘Timmy, stay there, it’s too deep for you over here.’
‘But I want to be with you!’
‘No, I said stay there!’
But Timmy was stubborn and made his way over to me.
‘What are you doing?! I told you not to come!’
‘Well I’m here now...’
It all happened so quickly. One second he was there and the next
he was gone.
‘Timmy! Timmy!’ I cry.
Hearing the commotion my parents come rushing over. It doesn’t
take long for them to realise what has occurred. My mother, eyes
filled with terror, dives desperately into the stream. I hold my breath.
It seems like hours before she finally resurfaces, all her energy
drained, holding a small figure. Timmy. My father races into the
water where my mother stands, takes him from her grasp and clings
to him helplessly. He hurries up the river bank and quickly lays
Timmy on the bright green grass. I pray silently as I watch my father
frantically try to revive him. Witnessing the diminishing possibilities