Salt And Stars

• Imogen Mcdermott, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2013

The girl sat in her warm, yellow, glowing room, ignoring the outside's golden sunlight, bright green yard and alluring splashes from her sister in the pool. The girl turned the page of her book oblivious to everything until her sister dripped into her glowing retreat. Over the fence, the neighbour's cat jumped in fright as the two squealing voices pierced the calm warm air.

Now, out beyond the tension of home, there was a place filled with crimson-red sand and ochre-yellow spiny bushes. The girl, her sister and her friend ran, jumped and laughed. The birds flew along calmly, the noise never startling. As the rich, warm colours reflected by the sun dulled, the friends gathered. Words floated, mixing in the still-cooling air and the smell of a thousand different cultures.

The girls flew across the heated ground, under the azure sky; imagination ran so thick it was real. They felt as if they had known each other for more than 50 years. The girl, her friend and her sister joined and the games began. Swords clanged and heroes were vanquished. Gifts of food were received and devoured. Under the silent stars, the 3 children giggled, laughed and their child mayhem exploded, only to be shushed by the watchful parents and the yips of dingos.

Quiet reigned in the solid, brick home. The overlord had silenced the opposing teams with looks and threats, and back in the now-dull, yellow room, the sounds of stillness thickened as the girl thought of days gone. Salt trickled down her face and dried on the cool, city pillow as she wished she was somewhere else, with the stars, laughter and freedom.