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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/600755-Kidnapped-by-the-Volch
by Shaara
Rated: ASR · Book · Children's · #807125
These are pieces for and/or about teens.
#600755 added August 7, 2008 at 5:43pm
Restrictions: None
Kidnapped by the Volch


Kidnapped by the Volch







The moment I heard the ship, I began to run. But it didn't do any good. I discovered that too late. No one can hide from the Volch.

Through the corn fields he chased me. Through the banana grove, then the avocadoes. I ran like some frightened, panting prey. But still he came, the predator whose leg muscles looked harder than boulders. At last, winded and exhausted, I fell in the wheat field, toppling over a loose rock, a rock sharp as a knife, My knee dripped red down my leg. I gasped from the pain, my heart thundering like a black-clouded sky. I could scarcely swallow. My lips trembled. My legs cramped and burned. But I didn't dare move. I had only one breathless hope that the Volch would not find me, that I would escape.

When he came, I heard only a rustle of wind, a flurry that sent one small bunny off to the side. Then the Volch was standing above me, his head blocking out the sun. Up, up, upwards I gazed, blinking with tears of fear. He was gloating over finding me, sneering at my weakness. The terrible sight of him stunned me more than my dread. Before I could run again, he seized my right wrist and twisted just to hear me cry out. Then he laughed, throwing his head back with abandon, and I saw the thick beat of his jugular vein, throbbing like the gills of a landed fish. Oh, how I wished I had a blade in my hand -- a scissor, an axe, even a stick -- but I had nothing, nothing but a small flower I'd picked, a yellow daisy with petals beginning to drop.

I rose when the Volch jerked me. He pulled me close. Tamely, I lowered my eyes in respect. But it wasn't enough. He wrapped my wrists and kidnapped me without one single word, just an evil look on his face and eyes that peered down into my soul.

I heard the ship again; its purring rhythm grew louder. The ship soon found us and coasted closer. My captor raised his hand in victory. We lifted up.

I screamed then, of course. I knew what it meant to be kidnapped by a Volch. But it was too late. I'd laid myself open, cutting school as I had done.

If only I'd gone off to math class. If only I'd written that Social Studies report. If only I'd listened to my parents . . .

I was locked in a room with nothing but dictionaries. A pencil was my only comfort, and there in that jail cell I slaved for weeks, copying, copying, copying. Three hundred pages of the Roget's Thesaurus kept me busy for the entire month of October. Peanut butter and bread and ice cold water, an apple for dessert on Sundays.

It was a cruel punishment for a girl like me. I wanted to be soccer with my team or throw a stick for my dog. I wished I were home in bed, even if I were only crying into my pillows. I wished I could see my parents.

Never again would I err like this. Never again I would play hooky from school. I have learned my lesson. I will always behave. But still the Volch will not release me. They say I have two mathematics texts and a social studies manual to transcribe before I've earned my freedom. So I stretch my fingers and bend over the table, and I work and work and work.








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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/600755-Kidnapped-by-the-Volch