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The sack over his head told George he was in trouble. The distinctive aroma of tar reinforced those fears. It wisped up his nose like a disease, making him cough and splutter from the strength of the smell. George heard a match being flicked and then blown out. 'You were the one with the matches, weren't you? After the harvest? You held my hand over the flame and watched me scream.' The floorboards creaked underfoot as the old church strained against the wind and thunder. 'Have you ever wondered what it's like to burn, George?' A match flicked on again.

by Ben Hooper (14)
Stover School, Newton Abbot

Competition - Spine-Chillers

Copyright remains with the author.