The Story With No Name

by Siobhan Smith

By University Writing Group

Prologue
Sophie sealed the envelope with her tongue and placed it carefully beside the large chunk of Gram's fruitcake on the table. The light in the kitchen had disappeared over an hour ago, and now a cold chill crept beneath the doors and made the hairs on Sophie's legs stand on end.

The garden gate clattered against the wall outside with a loud clang. Spooked, Sophie fumbled with her torch until it fell to the ground. A moment of silence passed, and she held her breath - desperately hoping the loud noise hadn't woken her Grandmother - who was stern enough at the best of times.

Carefully she crept towards the door, up the stairs, and into her tiny bedroom at the back of the house. Crawling underneath her sheets, she gripped her eyes tightly shut, and wished.

One

The next morning Sophie was awoken by shouts and screams from voices she didn't know. Someone frantically called her name, and she recognised the scared sound of her Gram through the din. Trying hard not to panic, she pulled on her nightgown and made for the door. There was a strange crackling sound, which reminded her of winter - but it was the start of spring and this idea was absurd.

Running down the rickety stairs of her Grandmothers house, she safely found the front door at their foot, and walked outside. She came face to face with at least 20 men, and many faces she remembered from her visits to the local village, all looking past her towards the house in fear. Sophie turned slowly, and screamed.

Sophie screamed so loudly you could probably here her from where you are sitting right now. The lower left side of the old house had flames dancing from the windows. The kitchen. A feeling of a hundred snakes settled sickeningly in Sophie's stomach. The kitchen; where she had been just hours before.

Men from all over the village surrounded the house, throwing large metal buckets of water towards the flames, attempting to extinguish the fire. The orange tongues seemed to lap the water up, never ceasing their attack on the brickwork.

Gram stood at the front of the crowd, staring rigidly at the scene unfolding before her. Sophie watched her nervously for a moment, and then walked up and placed her hand in her Grandmother's, not knowing any words of comfort to offer her, willing only that the men could stop the fire from engulfing the entire house in time.

- - -

It was hours before they were finally allowed back inside, the sun and risen long ago - and was now making his decent back into darkness. Sophie tiptoed carefully over the char-grilled floor of Gram's little kitchen, her bare feet leaving little black and dusty footprints behind her. Someone from the village had brought a hose at last - and the men had defeated the fire before it swallowed the house whole.

Not much was left of the room it had taken, only the slated floor and a few lumps of wood here and there. The metal casing of the gas stove stood unheeded, the only sign that any life had once belonged in the room. Sophie's letter was nowhere to be seen.