okay, so this is the full-est version so far. please read and comment, i know it could be improved ^^ (its about a psychic who works with the police to stop a serial killer)
The girl couldn’t have been older than 14. Her hair was tied in a single, white-blonde ponytail, the pink scrunchie matching her lip gloss. Her powder blue school uniform was in almost perfect condition, knee socks the same height, shirt tucked in, jacket done up. That was, of course, discounting the gaping hole in her side, its bloody red edges blaring like fire against the cool blue uniform. Her phone was still clutched in her hand. Its little screen was cracked, streaks of white running across the black off-screen.
That had been how we knew she was missing. She had called her friend. As the pieces flew together in my mind, I felt the familiar rush of magic behind my eyelids, inviting me for a trip down someone else’s memory lane. I shut my eyes and let the vision take me.
I stepped out across the street from the park. It was cold, so I did my jacket up. My shoes made a slapping noise on the steely-grey pavement, accompanied by the roaring of the main road two streets away. A dog yapped from a nearby garden, and a late night bird twittered in the twisted trees in the park. No one else was around but me.
I picked up my pace as the sky began to darken to an inky spill of red, blue and black. Mum hated it when I stayed out too late. I should have called from Akane’s house, but my phone was running out of credit. We’d been doing her sister’s hair again, which takes forever because she has too much of it.
I stopped. Footsteps?
Couldn’t be. No one is out this late, and the street had been deserted when I’d crossed from the park. I chalked it up to imagination, and carried on walking. The history essay was in for tomorrow. If I didn’t get it done tonight, the teacher would kill me. I hated history. Why do we have to learn about the past? What’s happened has happened, why bother looking back twice a week. I had much better things to do, like bashing my brains out against large slabs of concrete.
Then it came again. The tapping noise. I wheeled around, hair whipping my eyes, but no one was there. The lampposts would cast a shadow in my direction, so there was definitely no one there. Even so, my senses were still on high alert. My breathing seemed ten times louder, and my heart sounded like a drumbeat.
“Hey, Umeko! Wait up!” yelled Akane’s voice from down the street. Oh, thank gods it was only her. Just like her to sneak up on me. I leant against the rough brick wall behind me, and waited for her to catch up. I whistled a bit, and then shut up. It sounded too clichÃ©.
Akane’s thin figure appeared in the lamplight coming out of an alley to my right. Her red hair glowed like a halo in the yellow light. She waved, and ran towards me.
“Heya, why are you out here?” I shouted in her direction. She caught up, breath puffing out of her like the stuff that comes out of steam pistons.
“Just — wanted — to — see — you,” she wheezed, and looked up. Then I saw her eyes. They were black, all the way through, pitch black without a single speck of colour, tar-like. The shock must have crossed my face, because her lips twisted into a smirk.
“Wha-?” I began, backing away.
“Don’t even think about running. It will only be worse.” Akane — no, it — said, its voice now a hideous double-timbre.
Of course I ran. Who wouldn’t? My feet pounded into the pavement, which was now like glue under my shoes, the same desperate rhythm as my heart. I peeked back, to see a shiny glint of metal in Akane’s hand. She had a knife. She had a knife! That was totally illegal. I ducked around a big metal bin in an alley, hoping it would conceal me.
I leaned as far back into the shadows as the laws of physics would allow me, and tried to stop my frantic breathing. In, then out, just like yoga.
“Come out; come out, wherever you are! You can’t hide forever!” Shrieked Akane. She was in the alley. A squeak escaped my lips, and she spun around, her shoes grinding on the gravelly floor. I was sure she could see me. Her eyes said it all. I pressed my body even tighter to the icy metal of the bin, wishing it would eat me where I stood.
Akane’s face loomed inches from mine. I could smell the pizza we’d had for dinner on her breath, and the faint powdery smell of her foundation. Sweat trickled down my head. We’d been laughing less than an hour ago.
“Ak-“ I started.
“Silence!” She screamed, loud enough for the whole road to hear. “I’m not Akane, child. You’ll never know who I am…”
Her voice trailed off as I felt a cold, aching pain in my side. I touched my hand to it, and it came away wet. She’d stabbed me. My best friend. No. It couldn’t be. I must be dreaming. I dug my nails into my palms, and felt pain there too. So it wasn’t a dream.
I’d seen wounds like this on television. T