Memories of the Guilty

A/N: Our local Community Centre hosted a World Book Day competition in 2007. needless to say I entered and I'm proud to say I came joint second place. The rules were to pick one of four opening lines (the one I chose is in bold) and it had to be 600 words or less.

This is the story I entered...

The door opened slowly before gently swinging back against its weather-worn post. Dark grey clouds hung almost obsessively over the large, old Manor outside as though in mourning. A cold wind rustled the dead leaves in the long skeletal branches of the once majestic willow tree; it’s trailing, broken fingers absently raking the cold, hard earth.

Lightening lit up the not-so-distant horizon and the winds blew again; biting his skin, causing the old door to swing noisily again. The resounding clang echoed loudly across the still, shadow-ridden garden outside; a garden he’d seen somewhere before; a garden that seemed both alien and familiar to him somehow.

Another flash lit the sky, momentarily blinding him. He felt a shift in the air; the winds had dropped. He opened his eyes when a quiet knocking sound echoed down from beyond the grand staircase behind him. A random memory took him, unexpectedly, to a time when he’d been running down them fleeing from a slightly younger girl who’d been ‘tagged’ in a game of Chase.

The knocking sound echoed down to him once more, his eyes darted, curiously, to the first floor landing. He was beginning to remember now…

He ran up the stairs and let his feet remember the route to small bedroom he’d once known well. He was sure he’d been here before; the four poster bed was familiar, as was the small display of soft toys and cushions. He could recall a time when he’d been sat on the bed, happily chatting away to the same girl from before; he must have been 7, maybe 9 yrs.

Bang…

His gaze suddenly swung fearfully to the balcony doors. They were open and one was swinging back against the wall; the source of the knocking he’d heard. But that wasn’t why they’d piqued his interest. No. He was remembering what had happened here many years ago, and the tears were falling again…

"Sammy..."

He suddenly froze. A small whisper brushed against his ear. He turned but found nothing. The tension was building, a sense of unease prickled on the back of his neck, fear filled his chest; he wanted out… now!

“Sammy…”

He spun again rapidly, panicked. More voices joined the original and seemed to escalate in volume. He scanned the room for the owners but he was alone. Accusations were being thrown at him left and right, growing louder, faster… he couldn’t keep up, there were too many.

“S… Stop…” They couldn’t hear his pleas, he couldn’t hear himself. His mind was being torn apart, pulled in several directions. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his head in his hands; the pressure was too much…

“S… Stop… Please…” The voices grew louder, the pain increasing. The tears came faster, tumbling over one another in an effort to be free from his guilty mind.

“I didn’t mean it!” His defences were ignored. And for the third time, he watched the young girl appear before him, bouncing happily over to the balcony doors, stepping through them and leaning over the railing to look down on the porch. His throat closed, his heart stopped.

It was happening again.

He remembered; he hadn’t meant to scare her… he didn’t think she’d jump… didn’t know she’d topple over the railing… He could hear her screams echoing through his soul, over and over; calling, crying, accusing… it lasted a lifetime until…

Thump

He sat up rapidly. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, shivering despite the warmth; he was in his room; on his bed… It was just a dream?

But it’d felt so real…

(600 words exactly according to Microsoft Word’s word count)