My short stories

A new beginning

One final story from my school days, revised and edited. Was one of my favourites too! Enjoy~

~~~

In a forgotten village, the Blackthorn orphanage loomed like a gloomy dark spectre, its walls harbouring a legacy of cruelty. It was a place where children were brought up with resentment and fear flowing through their veins under the tyrannical rule of their 'dear mother' Laiba. These children knew only savagery, a frozen heart and an iron fist. 'Mother' Laiba treated them like prisoners. Meals were minimal while the 'mother' feasted lavishly. Punishments were harsh while 'mother' laughed at their sorrow. Love and care were non-existent.

Once a year, many new children find their way into this miserable sanctuary, usually due to abandonment by their parents. The 'mother' had no interest in feeding a multitude of hungry mouths. Instead, a barbaric tradition was born: the tournament. Both new and old children are left in a makeshift arena, a ring of slaughter, and forced to fight for their survival against one another until only thirty children are left.

It was that time of year again. One hundred children stood in solemn silence around the ring of bloodshed under the moonless sky. Years of relentless torment had left the ground stained with dried blood, a grim testament to the countless lives lost in this recurring nightmare. Encircling the arena were decayed trees looming ominously, their gnarled branches resembling skeletal fingers, ready to snatch the unfortunate contestants. The eerie stillness was broken only by the faint crackle of a solitary fire, tended by the enigmatic 'Mother' Laiba just beyond the ring's edge. Its flickering light cast long, dancing shadows, offering little warmth or solace to the trembling children awaiting their fate.

'Mother' Laiba finally struck the ancient bronze bell with a resonating clang, signalling the beginning of the bloody battle. The 'mother' watched in shameful amusement as she sat on her imposing stone throne, one leg resting elegantly over the other as she nursed a goblet of blood-red wine in one hand. Amidst the chaos, a single child caught her predatory gaze, igniting a spark of interest in her twisted expression.

Hazel swung a bloodied rapier, taking her 30th kill. She had been at this orphanage for all 17 years of her life, a veteran to this madness, never seeing life beyond Blackthorn's dark walls. While most of her siblings had long since surrendered to the despair, an inferno desperate to incinerate still burned deep inside her. This year, she had decided enough was enough. Someone needed to remove the tyrant from her throne and Hazel craved to be the one to do it. But first, she needed to survive. Tightening her grip on her rapier, Hazel turned to face her next opponent, each swift movement a step closer to her ultimate goal of liberation.

The brutal spectacle unfolded with merciless efficiency. What began as a hundred trembling souls swiftly dwindled - 70, then 50, until finally, only 30 children remained standing amidst the massacre. 'Mother' Laiba struck the bell once more, the loud clang resonated across the arena, signalling the ending of the battle. Rising from her stone throne with deliberate grace, Laiba began a slow, mocking applause. A twisted smirk played across her lips, an expression of perverse satisfaction that made Hazel's blood boil. The young survivor's fingers twitched, imagining the satisfying slice of her blade across that smug visage. But Hazel knew better than to act on impulse; the time for retribution had not yet arrived. With practised ease, Laiba donned a mask of false benevolence as she sugar-coated her welcome to the traumatised victors into the orphanage.

Once the tour was done and all the children were in bed, 'mother' Laiba returned to her office. Unbeknownst to her, Hazel snuck out and followed her silently, shrouded by the dark shadows of the hallways. Only when they had reached the main hall did 'mother' Laiba speak up, "My, my. what are you doing out of bed, my little wolf?" Her tone dripped with false sweetness, a predator's purr.
"Enough is enough, mother. Your cruel treatment ends tonight." Hazel responds, her voice unwavering.
'Mother' Laiba turns and smiles sadistically, her eyes glinting with malicious amusement. "Is that so? Well then, why not make this a little more fun?" She takes out a rapier of her own. At the same time, Hazel unsheathes hers. 'Mother' Laiba continues "You have 2 minutes to disarm me. Only then will you sway my judgement."
I'm not planning to simply disarm you, 'mother'. Hazel thinks, readying for the battle.

What followed was a masterful display of skill, strength and swiftness from both sides. 'Mother' Laiba was surprised by Hazel's capabilities, her speed and focus were truly unmatched by any other child. Clashes of steel against steel echoed through the hall like a metallic symphony. Hazel's resolve remained strong, her patience became her greatest ally as she waited for the perfect moment to strike. And there it was! An opening! With her fierce determination and her desperate will to survive, Hazel took her chance and struck off her 'mother's' head.

As the tyrant's lifeless form crumpled to the ground, Hazel stood motionless, her chest heaving. "Where was your love for family, 'mother'?" Hazel murmured to no one in particular. She raised her head high, a newfound strength radiating from her. "Your reign has ended. It is time for a change... a new beginning."

~~~

Over the years, Hazel worked with her siblings to transform the conditions of the orphanage. The tournament was abolished, its memory fading like an old scar. Lanterns that once flickered dimly now burned bright, illuminating hallways that echoed with the sound of laughter, a sound that was once a foreign concept.

Even so, food and money slowly ran out. Hazel recognized the need for outside support and, with a small group of her most trusted siblings, she ventured into the neighboring town, seeking work to sustain their newfound haven. Their initial reception was disheartening; most townsfolk dismissed them with sceptical glances and mocking laughter. After all, why would children be looking for a job? But fate had not abandoned them yet. A local businessman, intrigued by the determination in their young eyes, took the time to hear their story. Moved by the distressing tale of survival and the children's resilience, he became their unexpected benefactor, providing crucial funding for years to come.

Yet the scars of their past ran deep. The orphans, wary of adult authority, resisted the idea of a new guardian. In response, Hazel stepped up to become the new 'mother'. Under her care and protection, and with the businessman's continued support, the orphanage flourished. She ensured every child was cared for and vowed that no child under her guardianship would ever know fear again.