Waiting

• Anton Zhang, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2008

Waiting
Anton Zhang, Year 9
I’m standing still and stiffly by the window. All I can hear is the soft breathing of the sleeping children and the rushing waves of the calm sea. I stand and wait, and as the sun rises from the horizon the sea transforms into an immense carpet of sparkling gems. I press my nose against the cold, hard glass and gaze out, admiring the beautiful sight. The memories flood back.
Dawn had broken and the sea glistened as the sun smiled down on the awakening coast. The cerulean sky was clear and cloudless, the sea breeze was light and fresh and the cries of the seagulls broke the morning silence. The waters of the sea were calm and the waves were small. The white, foamy water washed softly up and down the sandy beach.
My father decided that it was a perfect day for fishing. After breakfast he gathered his rods, bait and a collection of many different lures, and headed off to shore. My mother and I waved goodbye as he made his way down the muddy hill towards the beach. From the window of my bedroom, I watched his small red boat disappear into the horizon, leaving a stream of white foam bubbling in the water’s wake.
As time crawled on the sky was no longer blue but was covered with a mass of grey clouds. The sun was obscured by a dark curtain which its light struggled to penetrate. Soon, heavy raindrops fell from the sky and the sound of their impact was deafening. My father was yet to return. I grew anxious and my emotions flowed inside me like a river; it was a river formed by a mixture of hope and worry. I stood by my bedroom window and waited for his return.
Like a hawk I scanned the coast. Suddenly I saw it, a speck of red tossing in the sea. My father’s boat. I immediately stormed down the stairs to inform my mother, my pounding footsteps shook the brittle walls violently.
Together, my mother and I dragged our white powerboat through the waterlogged grass towards the shore. Lightning cracked above us, followed by the ear splitting sound of thunder which echoed through the skies. The raindrops fell hard on our backs as we neared the water. Together, we heaved our powerboat into the chilling sea.
My mother scrambled aboard and started the engine. Her last words to me were, “wait here.” She ignored my persistent pleas and left me standing on the sandy shore. My mother sped off into the darkness in my father’s rescue.
I stood on the sand and waited for their return. I was oblivious of the cold and the splattering raindrops. My eyes were fixed on the horizon. I stood there. Waiting.
As the first light of the new dawn drive the lingering shadows of the night away, as the sun baths everything in its golden light, and as the other orphans continue to sleep,
still I wait.