Highly Commended -- Primary Section
St Patrick's College
A gust of wind brushes by my ear sending a shiver down my spine. Otto spots something and sprints, with that shaggy white mane of his. Silly dog.
“Liv,” says Dad, “it’s getting humid. We should head back to the cabin.”
“Ok,” I reply calmly.
A hot wind lashes my face, and the many branches I’m surrounded by.
Suddenly Otto frantically bolts toward us barking up a storm. He chomps down onto my Dad's crutch and tugs.
“Something's wrong,” my dad whispers gravely.
A noise captures my attention. I whip around. And there it is, that glowing monster I feared would one day reach us.
Thick, chalky smog envelops Dad and I, just as we reach our cabin.
“Go, Liv!” shouts Dad over the chaos. “Run!”
So I sprint, knowing my dad will soon be gone. Damn that crutch.
I turn back and see the red glow of our cabin, crumbling to the ground.
I hear one last thing before I turn away. It’s my dad. He says;
“I love you Liv. Stay strong.”
As I turn and run away, I feel a cool tear caress my flaming cheek.
2 Hours Later
I’m on the verge of collapse. My body aches with every inch I move. The soles of my feet are a dark ashy black, not to mention swollen like a puffer fish, with sharp sticks jabbing in at every angle. I wince as I walk through the gritty coals of the dead forest. I look back, as if there’s anything to see. There’s a sea of black. A sea of dead. A desert of nothing. Forward and back.
The sweltering ball of fire scars me with every step. I’m way past burnt. My face is tingling and blistering. All I want to do is touch it, but even my arms are cracking and peeling away, almost to dust, with this deadly heat. I’m on the verge of death. I can feel it. Every millimetre of my body is screaming, give up! Everything in my half-sane mind tells me to stop. But I can’t. It’s strange. There’s a voice inside, gnawing at my gut, whispering: “Don’t give up. You must go on. It’s what your dad would’ve wanted.”
I choose to listen to that little voice, that faint whisper, so I plough on! A sense of hope glides through the air. Or is that just me hallucinating? Who knows? I’m too drowsy to care!
I waddle onwards. Step by step. Breath by breath. I will make it. That once little voice is now imploding me with its screams of encouragement.
“You can! You will! Go, Liv!”
I stop. The voice pauses. A shallow gasp comes from me. I see a shining grey skyscraper. Touching the sun almost. The reflection is blinding, but I don’t look away. Eventually I see other buildings. Smaller, but just as impressive.
I reach the gates. There’s people bustling everywhere. It’s incredible!
“Help…” I say feebly, moments before I collapse to the rough, cold, and very hard ground.
2 Days Later.
My eyes spring open. A reflective glare hits my pupil as I squint at my surroundings.
“Where am I?”
“Well dear,” a kind voice softly says, “you’re in Coytown orphanage. In the nurse's room to be exact. I’m Nurse Holly. You are…?”
“Liv,” I mutter. I try to sit upright but I am greeted with a pounding headache, an IV drip in my right hand and arms slathered in bandages.
Nurse Holly helps me get ready, then takes me on a ‘tour’ of the orphanage. It’s a dark, stinky place. Just as stereotypical as ones from movies. It’s musty, dusty, grimy and, creepily enough, dead silent. The walls are thick, cold dark grey cobblestone. The floors are too.
“I know it’s not ideal.” Nurse Holly says, a sorrowful but hopeful look on her face. “But at least it’s a roof over your head and food… sort of.”
I nod slightly.
Holly leads me to my bed. A thin, aging mattress, with steel bed frames, draped in rust.
“Anyway, how long until you’re eighteen and can leave here, eh? What are you now?”
“Seventeen,” I reply.
“Only one year! Not long at all! The old matron hates it here and takes it out on you poor children most of the time. She usually comes up and does something truly evil every six months. You’ll only have to deal with it once or twice! Now, off to bed. You need some good sleep.”
The stringy blanket is barely enough to keep warm- barely even a blanket! I toss and turn all night.
As I finally nod off, I feel the air change. A shiver creeps down my spine. I think to myself; one year of hell.
1 Year Later.
I can barely bring myself to do it. To go back. But I can. The voice urges me on.
As I walk through the damaged remains of a forest, all I smell is the acrid remains of life. And all I hear are my dad’s last words.
As I cautiously approach the dark ash that was our cabin, my eyes are drawn to something odd. Green. The colour green. A bright, alive green.
It’s a sapling. I feel a pang of love and grief in my heart and I feel -- no -- I know that this is what’s left of my dad. Where he once stood, where he held me as a little girl, where we last met. And this is what’s left of it. Of our life.
I collapse to my knees, hands clutching one another.
And I laugh. I smile. I thank the Lord for this great gift. I go to the lake, cup my sweaty palms and scoop some refreshing water. I stride over to the sapling and say, “Here you are.”
My heart that has far too long been empty, has been filled by this tender green life. I will forever care for it. My little tree. My dad’s legacy. My dad’s -- and my -- life.
