Alan

By Billy Rauer, aged 12

As Hilary took the steps up to where Alan lay she longed just to feel his loving embrace just one more time. His death left Hilary bitter, depressed and alone. For a fourty seven year old lady, this was devastating. Her usually impeccable standards of dress had plummeted. A usually elegant dresser (well known because of her fondness for party frocks) had thrown on any old clothes, completely contradicting her characteristics. Her normally beautiful hair had flopped barely above her eyes, and wrinkles had formed on her face as she had completely ignored her daily beauty regime.

She had brought with her several objects that Alan loved almost as much as he loved her. The first item that was removed from the ancient Asda carrier bag was a 1966 world cup final ticket. He was always warbling on about ‘the good old days’. That seemed to be the only thing that Alan ever spoke of, forgetting how terrible TV, politics, and basically everything new is nowadays. She had also brought his favourite pair of shoes. She placed his shoes next to his gravestone and lay down next to him.

Lay there, alone, Hilary had time to think. The memories were flooding back. She remembered every detail of their first encounter. Alan’s first words to Hilary were “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Hilary just replied”yes.”

Hundreds of memories flashed through Hilary’s mind.

At one final attempt to connect with Alan, Hilary put on his old hearing aids. She could hear the birds tweeting in the far off trees and with this, tears began to form. She dropped her head onto the grave, only to immediately lift her head up in shock as she had heard something that would haunt her to this day.

A scratching sound.

Muffled shouts and screams of a very familiar voice...

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