Heart Of Gold

• Alexandra Jurkovic, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

“Sometimes I think my hearts made of stone” she muttered, sitting on the Ferris wheel.
“Why do you think that?” I asked, looking at her pale face.
“It’s really strong and stuff, but after a while, stones begin to crumble and break”
“Like what’s happening now?”
“..Yeah, like what’s happening now” she smiled softly, looking out at the scenery of the Ferris wheel.
“Well, I mean, there are hearts that are strong and made out of gold” I mumbled across from her, staring at my shoes.
“Are you saying my hearts made of gold?” She smiled and laughed softly.
“Yeah, I guess I am” I smiled, looking out at the view. “I’m going to miss you a lot Cara”
“I’ll miss you too Soph.” She sighed, tears brimmed her eyes.
“Remember the first time we went on this? I've still got the ticket, and a little note scrawled on the back along with the date” I laughed “and we looked down at your mum and waved because we were up so high”
“And we saw those boys yelling on the footpath” She laughed, coughing and wheezing as she stopped.
I looked at her pale and small body, her purple pom-pom beanie keeping her hairless and pale head warm.
“It really sucks that you need to go. Back to hospital and all” I frowned. “But I’ll always call you and I’ll visit and bring you stuff” I grinned, holding her hands in mine.
“That’s something I’m looking forward to” She smiled. Our cart came to a stop and we got off the big SkyWheel and walked around, reminiscing for the rest of the night.
I had called her every night for three months, talking about all the things that was happening in my life. I’d visit every second Sunday, bring her flowers and something to watch on the TV in the hospital.
We were watching “10 things I hate about you” and talking about what a hunk Heath Leadger was. She was getting worse, you could tell.
“Sophie, can I ask you to do something?” She whispered, tubes running through her nose.
“Of course you can Cara, you know that” I smiled.
She took a deep breath and said “When I die, can you put flowers on my grave, really pretty ones, so that in my last moments I’d still be beautiful?”
“….Of course” I whispered, my voice croaky and shaky.
I pulled her in for a tight hug, not letting her go for nearly an hour.
When I called her the next morning, she didn't answer. A nurse did instead, and told me the news. I cried for 5 hours that night, there was a hole in my heart where she used to be.
So I followed her instructions, I put the prettiest flowers I could find and sat them at her tombstone, but they never quiet matched up to her beauty, not even close.