The Black Umbrella by Lily Mei


    Name: Lily Mei

    Class: Advanced Writing I, XJS Coaching School

    Writing style: Creative Writing

    Teacher: Mr Johnson


     [Somewhere in Canada]

    I opened my eyes to find myself in this immense stretch of darkness, again. What are you doing here Helen?

    Every room was empty. This place just didn’t live up to its expectations.

    I continue to make my way through the so-called “haunted” manor, keeping my video camera ahead in front of me at all times.

    And then finally, an eerie whisper wafted to my ears. I turned around, expectant to see the frightening — but there was nothing there, just darkness.

    This manor was supposed to be owned by a psychopath killer. One problem, where were the scares?

    I keep walking until I was near the end of the hallway, and then turned on the light of the camera to see a lifeless body hung from the roof by the neck.

    Shivers ran down my back. I suddenly wasn’t so bold.

    I duck past the body, wanting to not see its grotesque appearance and lifelessness, because of this I turn around and run. I trip over, not remembering something there, and shine the light on the floor.   I feel a cold sweat running down my face. A bloodied dead body… the eerie whisper came again, I scan the area but still....darkness.

    I panic. I want to scream. But nothing will come out.

    All of a sudden, I feel something breathing down my neck.  I glance across the room, there is darkness only...Until I hear the noise of stabbing to my right, I turn around and shine the camera’s light and there, in bold letters —'I’m watching you'—  written in blood with a knife, which was jabbed to the wall underneath the vile words.

    My entire body tenses up.

    I start running, looking back almost every step until I reach the end of the hallway....a black umbrella shoots across me and hits the wall, and I pull it out. The tip looked like it had been sharpened; I throw it back and hear a strange noise, like it had been knocked off course.

     I go into the foyer keeping the camera’s light on; as I get closer to the centre, another message had been left behind. It read 'Like I said, I’m watching you, where ever you run, where ever you hide... I can see you’. I shiver and kept my pace steady again.

    This was all too spine- tingling.

    I reach the front door and fiddle around with the lock.  It wouldn’t budge!

    With camera still in hand, I kick the door as hard as I can. Dammit!

    I frantically peer over my shoulder. The black umbrella whizzes towards me at full force, ready to pierce my body.  I dodge it just in time. It slams into the lock.

    Yes! My chance of freedom! I burst the door open, finding 'more fun for me', as carved into my Hatchback is another grotesquely written message— 'You can’t run or hide, because I can always see you'.

    I walk out to the front of the house, holding the camera as not only my weapon, but my only way to prove to people that the manor is dangerous. I scan all around me. All of a sudden, something swiftly shoots past. I look for the item that shot past.

    There! I find a knife near the old maple tree. I slowly and cautiously walk towards the knife pick it up and look around the corner. I find another body with yet another carved message near his stomach 'You're cornered right where I want you'.

    I freeze and prepare to run. This entire expedition had gone completely out of hand.

    I feel a shallow breath down my neck, I slowly and steadily look behind, and see the pale face with enough madness and malevolence of a killer. He puts his arm around my neck and presses the point of the knife near my chest. "We’ve had some fun tonight haven’t we?" He said in a tone full of malice.

    The words struck me with so much trepidation, I felt an overwhelming readiness to grab the knife arm and plunge it into my very soul, for freedom from the terror biting away at me, which was most definitely capable of making my very being as mentally distorted as his was.

    Out of the blue, I get a brainwave. I grip his arm, aim the knife as to strike myself, but purposely veer left and strike the psychopath killer.

    I know that I’ve hit him in the side, that he would be bleeding furiously and that the pain he would feel would give me enough leeway to escape.

    Not looking back, I run into the street.

    Actually, I run into him.

    I realise in vain, that he had moved ahead of me with a swift movement that could be compared to a fox.

    I want to give up. I want to die right there.

    I kneel down and wave the white flag, drop the camera, and raise my arms.

    "Oh, man! Don’t give up now I was just getting started. But, I guess this means I can collect another corpse to decorate my lovely home today, huh?” whispers the killer into my ear with a mock disappointment, and then begins to measure where he should place that murderous implement upon my individual.

    I glimpse at his face, so expressionless, so pale and eager for my death. He feigns a strike. When his bloodshot eyes see that I had leaned back, he chuckled, “So you aren’t too ready for death? Here’s a new experience for you…Helen.”

    My breath was caught in my throat. Helen. He knew my name. God, what have I gotten myself into?

    His back is turned around to face me. Sweat has soaked every inch of his blood stained shirt. "You've put up a good fight; I must congratulate you, dear Helen."

    Whilst lying on the ground I had envisioned a freedom to be back home with my lovely cat, Mittens. I feel a rapid surge of courage fill me. The knife. In my back pocket, from the old maple tree.

    The killer’s still going on about the many ways he could place me inside his manor. I take this one in a lifetime opportunity, grab the knife with my right hand—my better and stronger hand— and chuck the crude thing at the killer.

    He turns around spontaneously, just in time for the knife to plunge into his, well, I’m assuming heart.

    I’ve killed the killer.

    His eyes bulge, as if shocked. He opens his mouth to say something, but fails and falls to the ground.

    I scramble to my feet and run to my Hatchback. It had never looked so safe. Even though it had that message scratched into its passenger door, it was my only way to leave this dreaded place.

    I rev up the engine and back out of the driveway. Not daring to look back.


    [Somewhere else in Canada]

    I’m back home. It feels great. I wave to my neighbour and get my keys out ready to unlock the front door of my unit.

    My blood runs cold and I must have been as pale as a ghost.

    I widen my eyes as I stare at the black umbrella with the same sharpened point, only this time, the point has a thick coating of blood over it.

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