A Grim Glory - ON HOLD

Grim. The creature that lurks in the dark. The creature that does not hesitate to kill. So they say.

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2. Her existence

A knocking noise came from the hallway and a girl with brown hair walked steadily towards the door. She peered through the eye hole and her brow creased with confusion. She opened the door. “Hello, I believe you are Merana Thrift?” A policeman asked.

Yes...” The girl replied.

He gave her a pitying look. “Your parents have been killed in a train crash.”

 

Her existence. That was all it was. An existence. Merana's life had just become an existence. Trains. About five minutes ago they were OK. Now she hated them. Anger boiled inside her. Stupid train. Stupid life. Stupid world. Stupid him. So now, Merana Thrift was an orphan. Her parents killed in a tragic train accident, caused by him. This so called 'Grim' was haunting Didcot. Wandering freely around the railway line, causing havoc. Next door's dog had already been killed. And now he had distracted the driver of the train. Standing on the track. Oh, how Merana wished he hadn't moved off the track, just before the train was derailed after taking the corner too fast. Her parents, just on a trip to London, had left her to look after the house. 15-year-old her. She had just been visited by the police. They told her they were dead. They said she shouldn't leave the house and that someone from the orphanage would come to collect her in the next two hours. Poor Merana Thrift. No surviving relatives. She clutched the knife angrily, repeatedly stabbing it into the wooden table. Merana couldn't let them take her. They couldn't shut her in an orphanage. She stood up from the kitchen table, her chair scraping along the stone slabs. She looked at her hands, at the knife. This would be useful... She tucked the blade in her belt, before running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Money. Merana could have sworn she had some somewhere... She rifled through her things, knocking most of it off her desk. She found what she was looking for. "Aha!" she murmured, pouring the collection of coins into a bag. She searched the rest of the house, collecting numerous things. Blankets, clothes, food, a tent and other necessities.

 

After half an hour of frantic searching, Merana had filled her bag. The people from the orphanage weren't here yet. Good. Running down the stairs, she glanced around quickly. She didn't need anything else. She pulled on a hoodie, before yanking open the back door and stumbling into the warm afternoon light. Looking around again, Merana saw a flash of black material disappear behind the hedge. She crept forward, keeping as low as she could. As she rounded the corner, she drew the kitchen knife. Nothing. Shrugging, she set off. It must of been her imagination. It had to be her imagination. She couldn't let such things bother her, not now.

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