Georgians

• James Collum, Grade 2
• Short Story
• 2014

All is quiet. I lay here under my blankets, quiet as mouse. I hear a rustle. Should I look? Should I move? I open one eye, I close it, I open two eyes, I saw two people next to my brothers bed they didn't notice me. Two men stood there in fancy clothes, coats of green and blue velvet surrounded by gold thread. Black shoes with big brass buckles. Their faces white, white as snow, red ruby lips with smudges of red on their cheeks and big white wigs growing out of their heads. I never believed my brother about his visitors but there they were. They turned toward and entered the cupboard. I jumped out of my bed and followed them into the darkness. I followed them back into their Georgian time. I entered a place a park with tree lined paths and sandstones buildings. I could only see smudges of green I was in a deep thick fog. I could barely see ahead of me or breath from the smoke woven in the fog. I stood alone cold in my striped flannelette pyjamas, if only I had a warm jumper. I walked around the town it was strange the trees were dirty and there was brown stuff on the pavement. These Georgians liked to be seen out walking the streets, women in large satin dresses hidden under a wig that looked like a moving garden full of fruit, flowers, ribbons and feathers.
The smell of warm hot apple pie found my nose. I could hear my stomach roar like a lion with hunger. Sitting there outside a window alone, all alone. My arms reached out to grab it. It smelled so good I brought the pie to my open mouth to take a bite when suddenly someone caught me, placing their hand on my shoulder. I wished I was home asleep. The man who caught me was very rich and had fine clothes with silver buttons. Looking at his face is eyes were dark with anger and his eyebrows were like mice fur. Dragging me by the hair he took me to a lake, he wanted a duel. Our eyes met he stared at me I stared at him. What was a duel? I have never been in one. It was a pinching competition. The competition began I pinched the man he didn't scream he pinched me I didn't scream I pinched the man he screamed. Still unhappy the man wanted another game one called ‘goose-riding’. From a tree top a live goose hung from the tree, before I could find out how to play the goose flew at me hitting my head. I fell to the ground. I woke to find myself back in bed, at home just in time for breakfast.