Hope

• Crystal Vong, Grade 8, Glen Waverley Secondary College
• Short Story
• 2012

Excellence Award in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

I leaned out of the dusty window, casting a small shadow over the grass below. Fresh air! “Sophie what are you doing?!” came the horrified cry from across the room. I sighed and ducked back inside, the musty smell of the indoors dampening my spirit. It’s curious how such small things can change your entire mood.

It’s been two weeks now. Two weeks since the invasion. Two weeks since my home became my prison. Two weeks since the world suddenly became tense. Two weeks since my father disappeared…

I sat on my bed, and through the thin cardboard-like walls, I could hear the sobs and tired sighs of our mother. Annie jumped into the room, and her bright face saddened. She too, had now heard the mourning cries of despair. We sat on our bed and listened. Waiting for the sobs to ease and for the rapid sighs to slow down.

The sun rose like a baby bird peering out from its shell. It cast hope for everyone. Hope that everything would be alright. That the world would be renewed. Because as the saying goes: after a hurricane, there comes a rainbow.

BANG! Soldiers marched in. They laughed meanly and pointed their massive guns towards us. I froze and grabbed Annie’s hand. The soldiers demanded food. My poor mother scurried around like a frightened mouse. She prepared a meal, nervously glancing at the soldiers, who were now in our tiny sitting room. They were sprawled all over the chairs and across the floor. I stared in contempt at them. They seemed to expect every person to bow down to them and be their slaves. Disgusting. One of them even threatened my mother. I nearly came at him with a heavy fist to the face, had it not been for my desire to protect my home.

Finally! The last of the soldiers left and we let out a breath of relief- at exactly the same time! Then my mother burst into tears. Tears of relief. Annie went up to her. “Don’t cry Mummy!!” she pleaded, and started patting Mother on the back the exact same way Mother used to pat us on the back. I ran and gave them both a hug. One of them smelled like crayons and innocence, and the other of stress and despair. Where had that flowery scent of cheerfulness gone? I squeezed tighter. This was it. A family hug…but someone was still missing…my father.

The coast was clear so I stepped outside. I just had to get away. Away from my ‘prison-home’. “Wait Soph!” came the pleading cry. I groaned and glanced back. Annie stood there with her hand outstretched. “Take me with you!” she begged. I gave in and took her sticky hand. We walked down to the beach and saw the first star appear. The chilling cries of pain, fear and war were louder here, but I kept my eyes focused on that first star and whispered, “Make a wish Annie! Make a wish!”