Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 52

Deep Trouble
ELCHK Lutheran Academy, Ng, Hayes - 14
“Hayes, this is insane,” my friend Penny whispered. “We shouldn’t be here.”
“Too late,” I whispered back. Sneaking into my Uncle’s forbidden room was probably a bad idea.
My name is Hayes Rogers. Penny Haywood and I are both thirteen. We’ve been best friends since primary
school.
Here we are, standing in Uncle Robby’s private quarters. I turned my head around, trying to see in the
room. Although it was a bright day outside because there was no light switch in the room, it was so dark I
thought I was inside a chalkboard.
We arrived at my uncle’s lighthouse two days ago in a tiny seaside village called Saint Martin Cove. It was
exciting at first until Uncle Robby told us about the forbidden room. Well, I guess that’s why we're here.
I led the way front. It was very dim. I couldn’t even see my fingers.
“I’m not sure about this,” Penny whispered. “What if he comes home and finds us? We’re dead meat!”
My mom says Penny think too much. She says if Penny were a superhero, she’d be Worry Woman.
“No worries,” I reassured her. “He said he’ll be back at afternoon.”
But we were both drawn to this room as if it pulled us like a magnet.
“Hayes, there’s nothing to see,” Penny said. “Let’s go, we’re outta here.”
I probably would have listened to her advice and leave the room if I had known what was about to happen
next. But I didn’t know I was about to enter the most frightening adventure that will twist my life forever.
Then, in deep shadow, something came into focus. A wooden chest with carvings of mermaids on the sides
stood in the room's middle.
I pointed. “Hey look, a treasure chest!” My voice sounded hollow in the small room.
Our shoes scraped on the creaky wooden floor as we stepped up to the chest. The wooden chest was
painted brown. A rusted lock hung from the lid.
“Maybe this chest has a legit treasure in it,” I said. “And Uncle Robby keeps it latched to make sure it’s
safe.”
“Wait for a second, what if there is a curse on it?” Penny said.
“You’re sounding like Uncle Robby.” I teased her. “Since when do you believe in evil curses?”
She shrugged and bumped me in the back. Hard.
I stumbled forward and crashed to the chest. “OWWWW!” I let out a painful howl.
The lock snapped open easily.
“I’m sorry,” Penny said.
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I climbed back on my toes. “You did that on purpose, now help me push this
bloody lid.”
Penny and I both grabbed the latch and clicked it open. Then we gripped the lid and pushed it up.
It made a popping sound as it came loose—and we swung the heavy lid up.
Ssssssssssssssss.
I took a few seconds to find out what was that sizzling noise. Then I saw a smoky mist shooting up from the
chest. I felt it drift against my face. I staggered back, choking.
I whipped both hands wildly, trying to clear the mist away. (I know I’m a dumb person)
“I—I can’t breathe!” I whimpered. Pressing my hand over my nose.
The sickening fog swept around us. In seconds, the mist spreads all over the room.
“Ohhh,” Penny groaned. “I think I will die!” Her shoulders were heaving up and down.
My eyes blazed. I could taste the pungent fog on my tongue. I felt sickish. My stomach gurgled. My throat
tightened.
I’ve got to close the chest, I decided. If I close the chest, maybe this disgusting mist will stop spurting up. I
crawled on the floor till I found the chest. The acerbic fog twirled around us for a few seconds more. I
helped her up.
She blinked several times, then turned. “Thanks.”
She straightened her sweater and jeans with both hands. “Let’s go.”
For once I agreed on her point of view.
I followed her to the door. Halfway across the room, I turned back.