Eliza's Poem

• Grace Richardson, Grade 4, Korowa Anglican Girls School
• Short Story
• 2011

Finalist in the 'Honoured Writers of 2011' competition

Eliza sat and stared at the moon. “Bright and beautiful, soft and sound, in which it goes around and around,” she said to herself. A beautiful poem was hard to write but if she wrote it, she would be free from her horrid mistress, Annette von Toi. One beautiful poem, she thought, and I can leave the horrid von Toi family and join the lovely Elice family. She knew that she was 13, and that it was already 1856 but it would free her from ten beatings a day and possibly give her a chance at life. “What are you doing girl?” she heard her mistress calling. “Get in here and get to sleep! You have got a huge day ahead of you.” Eliza walked into the house and went to sleep, thinking about all the amazing poems she could write.
Eliza woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing. “Shh,” she whispered, sticking her head out of the stable window. “You’ll wake Ma’am!” Then she pulled her long, dark hair into a bun and put cloth on her feet, as the stable floor put splinters in them. She thought about an impressive poem as she went into the house to scrub the marble pillars. Then, just as she was finishing the first pillar her horrid mistress walked in. “Get off my pillars, girl!” she screeched, “I don’t want your grubby hands on them!” “Yes Ma’am,” Eliza said in reply and waited for the mistress to take out her solid gold beating stick. “Aaah!” Eliza screamed as an excruciating pain shot through her back and then, with no warning, she fainted.
Eliza woke to the harsh voice of Madam von Toi. “How dare you fall asleep, you little brat!” she shouted. Eliza realised where she was and what was going on. She hauled herself up, grabbed a bucket and began scrubbing the floor, not even hesitating. She had her poem, and she wrote it down as soon as her mistress had left. It went like so:
The darkest days of life,
Are darker than the night,
Are darker than no sight,
Are sadder than illness,
Are sadder than dirty pillars,
Are as hard as my life is now
My life as a servant is some how
Hard enough to make me almost die
And hard enough to make you almost cry
Eliza knew that her poem was weak, but she had written one and she sent it to the Elice family straight away. She told her mistress that she was leaving for good, but when her poem was turned down she still left and was never seen again, but they know she’s still alive as she always drops a poem where ever she goes, and the poems have improved greatly.