Let Them In [Short Story] ✅

Part 1: On the Run

A/N
I have this essay writing competition at school and entered it. Lol this is actually the story, but they put a maximum of 1,500 words. For me, that's not enough. So I'm just going to publish it here - mainly because it is also one of my ideas for my short stories.

The fourth lightning zips itself across the night sky, lighting the world for one second before the clap of thunder rumbles, upsetting the ground.

Devon finally collapses with a splash, letting out a heavy groan. I would do the same if I let this fatigue wear me out, but I mustn't do that, or else there will be nobody around to help us. I bend down and heave Devon from the ground by his armpits. I can feel his shoulders quavering as I lift him up.

He's crying.

He didn't cry before - not even when his sister died during our evacuation, killed by a legion. Of course, we were in such a haste that we almost didn't feel any emotion. Though, now that we are far from them, in a remote area where neither of us has ever set foot in before, I can just deduce that the sorrow has finally kicked in Devon. So I let him. I let him cry. He can let it all out.

But we have to move on. Even though we are in an area so far for the legions to locate us in the middle of the raining night, I still feel exposed. Looking around the darkness surrounding us using only my flickering torchlight, I can just make out the silhouettes of trees and small houses in the distant. No lights come out from any of the houses. We might as well be in the middle of nowhere.

We are only two eighteen-year-old boys running from hazard caused by the legions, stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hopes of succour. The only equipment I brought with me are my quiver of arrows, my bow and my rucksack filled with - no doubt - soaked clothes and food. Devon, however, didn't have a chance to bring anything with him except the small pouch that originally belonged to Eloise. Eloise, who was his sister. Eloise, who took a sword in the gut to save him. Eloise, who was only fifteen years old.

"She's dead," Devon chokes out. This is the first time he has ever spoken of her death. "She's dead, Garrett."

He is about to fall again, but this time I hold him firmly on the shoulders and shove the torchlight into his hands. The light illuminates his face, and I look away at once; his eyes are in much pain I can't bear to look straight into his eyes. I swear I can feel the grief radiating from him.

"We'll search for help," I tell him.

"Eloise is gone."

His face drops, but I instantly pull his face back up so he is facing me. Devon is my only best friend, and I have to do whatever it takes to keep him moving. "She's dead, we both know that," I say, rather sternly. "We never expected it, but it happens, Devon. It can happen to any of us - maybe even to either of us. Eloise would want you to move on. We can't simply get help from here. That's why we have to move on. We need to."

I hand him my own knife for him to defend himself, and on we move.

We walk under the pouring rain for another hour. By the time fatigue finally kicks into me, the rain has ceased. I might as well catch a cold if I keep pressing myself to move, so Devon and I decide to seek refuge near one of the empty houses. There are a dense number of yew trees in the back garden. It is sort of dry here. I instantly fall against the bark of one of the trees, sliding to the ground with my head buried between my knees. I don't realize how completely drained I am.

Moments later, golden lights dance on the ground, casting long shadows, followed by assuaging crackles. Soon, I can feel warmth on my hands and legs. Looking up, I notice Devon has set up a fire for us to warm ourselves. He looks better than earlier. I guess what I said to him worked. Though, I don't think he is completely all right. I know what sorrow feels like; it eats at you until you decide to move on.