"Sicilia" by Hans R. Jeppson (1st place Top of Iowa 9th/10th grade -- Prose)

 The party set out in the morning from their little checkpoint. They traveled along the river through the semi-arid landscape. They passed in between large towering mountains and entered a sparse pine forest valley. Ida guided them to the base of a mountain, using switchbacks to rise above the ground, and the higher they got, the thinner the trail, and the steeper the cliff. They left their mules on the path, tying them to a rock. Their adventure took the day, but they had reached a larger flat gravely area. There were wooden beams holding up an open tunnel in the mountain in front of them. They had arrived by sundown, which sank beneath the mountains.
 Frank lit torches, passing them around the group. The entrance of the mine was blocked by two wooden boards that they pried off. Randal entered first. Scrape marks lined the walls, probably pickaxes. A minecart they peered in was on rails that led deep into the darkness. Bone dry. Not even a flake of gold.
Randal’s group consisted of Javier, the mule keeper, of which he lent to the party in exchange for a piece of the treasure. Frank was a veteran who was incharge of demolition and mining equipment. The hulking man carried a large backpack on his back. Last was Ida who was native to this region, being the group's designated scout.
 A few years post the Colorado Gold Rush, Randal, a desperate prospector, tried to see if anything was left for him in the Western Mountains. He rode his wagon with his horse into a soon to be Ghost town. While in the town, Randal gathered a group to accompany him into the nearby mountains. Rumors circulated of an abandoned Quarry, with gold left by its predecessors. Mostly mined out, just left there. Why the original miners had left was unknown, but some said they had more gold then they knew what to do with.
 Randal reached his torch out and walked deeper into the mineshaft. Farther was a brick wall with a hole pushed through it. Bricks and dust lay on the floor, and past the brick wall was so dark his torch didn’t seem to show anything even as he got closer.
 “Ain’t no gold here. Let's go.” Javier looked into the minecart.
 “We got this far.” Randal said, “Why’d they build a wall if not to protect allat gold?”
 “Or to protect theyself.” Ida suggested.
 Frank watched the conversation silently.
Randal stepped over the bricks and walked into a circular chamber. He stood on steps that spiralled down the brick walls too far down to see. Frank dropped his torch down the pit to calculate the depth. It got dimmer as it fell. They waited.
 Randal led them down, lit by the orange glow of his torch. The pit smelled of dust, and the scent of leather permeated the air the deeper they went. There were divots in the walls that held unlit torches, which Randal ignited as they went. After roughly five minutes of walking, the walls opened up into the entrance of a large square room. Twenty feet in all directions. It seemed like a banquet hall, with a long table and chandelier. Untouched and perfectly set dinnerware collected heavy amounts of dust on the table. Randal’s torch was the only light. On the other side was an opening into another room.
The air felt thin and old. Ida coughed. Randal moved to the next room. Shadows fled the space, and he flinched at the motion. This room was smaller and led in three separate directions. Randal took a left down a long hallway, the rest following single file. Soon it opened up. This room had hooks lined in rows, a hundred at least, most hung a leathery fabric, torn on the edges.
There was another exit on the other side of the room. Randal turned, Javier was missing.
 “Bastard probably went looking for his own fortune.”
 “Or got lost.” Ida had added, “We should go for him.”
 They followed Ida back through the hallway, to the room with three tunnels. Frank went down one, and Ida and Randal went down another. The tunnel Randal traveled had multiple turns and a winding path. They heard a sound soon after. It started faint, but began to grow behind them from where they came. Scrip scrape scrip scrape. The two didn’t acknowledge the sound, but both subtly walked faster. Louder now, scrip scrape scrip scape.
 Frank, after walking through the hall, found himself in a room covered with white powder all over the floor. Something crunched under his foot, he looked down, and it was a piece of a bone-white plate. He moved on to the next room with more hooks and leather. On the floor he found a single black feather. He reached his light out, seeing them trail out into the next room. He followed. Soon he found Javier laying on the cold brick floor in an empty room. He had a large gash in his stomach, and the dust on the ground soaked up the pool of blood around him. He was pale, and unconscious. Cautiously now, Frank heaved Javier over his shoulder, dragging him back.
 Randal turned around once the sound had gotten louder and his heart dropped. Out of the darkness was a bright white shape of a skull seemingly floating in the darkness. The sound had stopped. The two backed away slowly, but it seemed to move to just barely stay out of their light. Ida counted down in a whisper to Randal.
 “Three, two, one.”
 They turned immediately and ran down the hall as fast as they could. Cutting through rooms, and one of the hook rooms. Randal looked back for a second to see a dark figure lumbering toward them. The two pushed passed the hanging fabric and Randal pulled Ida to a corner and snuffed his torch. They held their breath in complete darkness. Scrip scrape, scrip scrape echoed through the chamber. At some point it faded into an obscure direction.
 Frank carried Javier, whose feet dragged and blood made a trail on the floor. Javier groaned, fading in and out of consciousness. Scrip scrape scrip scrape quickly behind him the noise came from. He dared not to turn back. He hobbled faster but the sound got closer. Scrip scrape scrip scrape. Suddenly Javier was yanked back, Frank tried to hold on but the force was too strong, and Javier was ripped from his arms and into the darkness. He put his torch forward, but a black mass grew at him from the darkness. Too fast for him to react.
 Randal and Ida felt their way through the dark of the rooms, until Ida remembered she had a pack of matches in her pocket. She lit Randal’s torch. The two moved on, peering around each corner before continuing. Lost was an understatement.
 Turning a corner, a massive figure burst into them. Stepping back, they saw it was Frank. He held his chest, hunched over in pain. A massive slash mark ripped through his shirt and soaked it in blood.
 “Go! We need to go!” His deep voice proclaimed. That was the first thing they had heard him say.
 “Is it following you?” Randal questioned.
 “Javi,” He coughed and red dribbled from his mouth, “took Javi.”
Frank hobbled past the two quickly, and they followed behind him.
 “Did you catch sighta’ it?” Randal asked.
 Frank just shook his head and continued on. They entered another room, one with hooks and animal hides again, pushing through the curtain of soft, heavy, material. Just before they reached the door however, to the left was something different. Hanging on a hook was one of those leather sheets, torn on the edges, but this one was wet and red, dripping with blood to dry.
Without time to worry about it, they moved into the next room, one Frank recognized, the room with white powder.
 “I know this, come.” He moved through the room quickly. They made their way through the space. Suddenly, Frank stopped in the middle, looking down at the black feather. “It’s close.” He whispered. They froze.
Scrape, crunch.
 Blood dripped and white shards fell from the ceiling. They looked up. A vaguely man-shaped blob of flesh was above them, its bones being ground to dust by whatever was holding it up there. They ran immediately at the sight. Following Frank forward, but he started falling behind. His massive, muscular frame, once seemed unstoppable, was instantly torn down by the darkness, and his screams were deep in his throat.
 They turned down a hallway, but as Ida outran Randal, she turned back, just to see three massive claws rip through him, and he made no sound. And the floating white skull killed the flame and Ida was in darkness again. She felt her way to a corner.
 Sitting on the brick floor. She reached into her pocket and pulled her match box. She felt for a stick and rubbed it against the box. No spark. Again, a spark now. Third time and the magnesium ignited and a yellow light lit up her face. To her right she saw the banquet hall, and past that, the stairs. Directly to her left was the white feathery face of the killer, deep black eyes reflected the light, catching its attention. Ida scrambled away, throwing the match into the face. The light died instantly. Ida ran to the torchlight from the stairs, exiting the catacombs, the creature pushed through the untouched table, spilling its contents, following twenty feet behind her, putting out each torch as it passed. Scrip scrape scrip scrape.
 Its neck extended and craned, snapping at her legs as she sprinted up the steps, any slower and she’d be in the jaws of the monster. It began to get darker. She tried lighting a match as she ran. A quick flame burst. The monster's head reached for her hand now. Biting at the light. Just a loop or so from the top she tripped and scraped her arms on the rough steps. The long neck of the thing reached up to attack. She threw the match at it, and its pearly black eyes watched as the light sank into the pit, but then looked back at her. Its claws stabbed into her calf and began to drag her down the stairs again. She desperately lit another match, but this time stuck it back in the box. The container exploded into an orange ball of fire. She tossed it down the pit. This was irresistible to the creature. It unhooked her leg. Unfurling massive black wings, flapping once, a gust of wind swept up dust in the air. Diving down, the huge creature swooped back into the darkness.
 Ida limped to the top of the stairs and out of the brick wall. She hobbled past the scratches in the stone, exiting the mineshaft. She collapsed onto the orange gravel, breathing heavily. She managed to make her way down the trail to the mules, opening some liquor, pouring the alcohol on her wound.
Days later she gathered a group from town to collapse the entrance of the mine, so no other soul would or could find it. However, crawling up the brick steps, bloodied and scarred Randal. Using one hand and dragging his body all the way to the top through the dark, scraping his chest as he went. Grueling journey, desperate to escape. Once he made it to the top, he sighed in relief, laughing in disbelief, tears dripping down his face. His body was raw with cuts. He crawled faster, but it didn’t matter, because to his horror, the entrance of the mine exploded and collapsed. Dust plumed and settled, closing off the entrance, sealing him in his tomb.
 “No!” He screamed, “No! Please! Help! I’m still here!”
 The creature didn’t kill Randal immediately. It just let him panic in the dark.

             
I’m Hans. Two things have been constant for most of my life. One, my life in Southern Minnesota, and two my love for storytelling. I soon realized that there wasn’t anything stopping me from expressing stories in written form. Although my style has definitely changed, my love for stories hasn’t.