A short story by Amina, 13, IntoUniversity Haringey North
Humming to
myself, I hung the pristine sheets in the garden. A garden of lush greenery
brought to life by the music of nature. I’ve always tried to join the choir of
buzzing bees and chirping birds but it seems like humans aren’t just ready yet.
My dear mother was a different case. Up and down, her voice rode like a wave
through the air, silencing nature’s melody. Her voice rang clear and true
across the village of stone rectangles and mosaics for streets. Her voice, an
enchanting beauty as she was.
From a
distance, I admired the curtain of white that criss-crossed around the garden.
They all fluttered in harmony with the wind. They seemed to be waving a solemn
goodbye to the neighbour’s washing which was being collected. I smiled at the
thought and calmly ventured to the market. The weather was perfect for idle
chatter.
So I left unaware of what was to come.
The market
was an intersection of cultures and greatness. An array of food was presented
to the customers, beckoning them with their mouth-watering scents. Fabrics
shone in the sunlight, injecting everyone with wonder and positivity. Towering
above this was a giant mountain rumbling with joy as the chief said. I struggle
to agree and dread cloaks me when I lay my eyes on it. Instead I looked around
and I saw the efforts of the people around me triggering my aspiration. It was
always my dream to please others and what better way to do this than to offer
them a cold drink? I set off on my job and approached many clients. Some were
jubilant children others worrisome mothers and even some street vendors
showering me with gifts for my kindness. It was a really happy day.
That was
until the mountain belched a grand rumble and caused the ground to tremor. The
crowds cheered and celebrated completely unaware of what I feared. Again it
shook spewing out black clouds. The crowds quietened but some were still
cheering. Yet again it rumbled, jarring our sanity as we saw flames leap in to
the sky. This time no one cheered. We stood stone still as the black snow began
to fall. Softly it perched on the buildings, the tents, the street smothering
everything in darkness. This snow wasn’t cool and burned to the touch. Now was
the time help was in dire need so I tried. My efforts were wasted as one by one
the villagers choked on the darkness gasping in pain. I was already face down
on the streets searching for my last breaths. My last thoughts came
spontaneously. Those sheets were white no more. Stained black by the silent
killers.
This short story was written by Amina, a Year 8 student at IntoUniversity Haringey North. Anna's entry was shortlisted in the 2015 IntoUniversity Short Story competition,
This short story was written by Amina, a Year 8 student at IntoUniversity Haringey North. Anna's entry was shortlisted in the 2015 IntoUniversity Short Story competition,
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