Neetriht

• Mitchell Groenewald, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2011

Dad is doing it again, I have to admit he would be quite convincing if I wasn’t 13, and not a baby anymore. Unlike my brother, I’ve out grown dad’s dramatic story of the giant bird Neetriht. He says Neetriht will come and steal us if we leave the window open, he’s a very good actor, he actually looks scared himself. But it only happens on the 27/4, because 2+7+4=13, and thirteen backwards is Neetriht.
Of course my 7 year old brother Ben believes the story, my “cute, innocent, bright-futured” seven year old brother, according to my parents. It’s the 27th today, and dad is at his all time best, with the story telling. He’s been going at it all day, and is being more persistent than usual because I won’t have a bar of it. I finally said I believe, just to shut him up, but tonight I would prove to Ben, and myself, that this story is just a story.
I’ve been waiting all day for this, all year actually, it’s finally here. I told everyone I wanted to sleep in Ben’s room tonight, so I could make sure he leaves the window closed, I’m really going to show him the truth. Dad tucked Ben in first, going over the story with him, then he came to me and did the same thing. He checked the window, and said “Goodnight”. About time.
As soon as dad left, I got up turned the light on, and made my way over to the window. With two swift movements, the curtain was back, and the window wide open. Ben shot up out of his bed, “What… are, what are you doing?” he stammered. “Showing you the truth, get back in bed you’ll see” I insisted. Ben knew he didn’t really have a choice; I was older, stronger and bigger than him. He just sat back in his bed, the one closest to the window.
I could hear him silently sobbing, not only was he terrified, but in an untucked bed with the window wide open, he was freezing. I felt something for Ben that I had never felt before, sorry. I could of just closed the window, but I had a point to prove. I got out of bed and tucked him in, something I had never done. He looked up at me, with terrified glazed eyes. “You’ll see, wake up in the morning, it’s all going to be okay” I assured him.
Morning! Finally, “See Ben, everything’s fine”. He’s still so scared he didn’t even answer. So I went over to his bed, “Ben, everything’s…” He’s at breakfast, I ran down stairs, not there. Dad saw the look on my face, and sprinted up the stairs with me. Dad said the word I never thought I’d have to hear ever again “Neetriht”. We both just stared, at Ben’s untucked bed, instead of Ben, there laid a giant, yellow feather.
I’d lost my cute, innocent, bright-futured brother Ben.