Heart Of Armor

• Giorgia Wallworth, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

A low drumming sound made its way faster and faster towards me, sounding like a thousand fighter jets peaking over the top of a mountain before dropping their blasts of destruction. I turned my head ever so slightly towards the culprit to find a swarm of bees hovering over me as their hive started to break away from the flimsy branch that supported it. A wave of terror flooded my senses, like a gushing river finally breaking through the cracks of a dam. I reached to the side of my leg to feel for my bag and gathered all of my belongings, without breaking my gaze with the malicious army in black and gold. CRASH! My enemies’ fortress had been captured. I was 100 paces away as I watched it all happen. Even I was impressed with my speed and agility. A smug grin spread across my face as I made my way back to the farmhouse, slinging my worn-out leather satchel over my shoulder.

A gust of wind carried the sweet scent of lilacs and lilies, consuming me with tantalising aromas as I hurried through Aunt Clara’s picturesque garden. My hand closed over the rusty handle which had been open and shut far too many times, and with a struggle I managed to push the wooden gate open. Like a gazelle leaping through the tall grass of the Serengeti I hobbled over the stone pavements that led the way back to the porch which creaked under every touch of my step. I collapsed in a heap on a pile of pillows which invited me to my slumber every afternoon. “Florence is that you?”
Ugghhhhhhh.
“Every single time... Flo - Call me Flo!”
The smiling face of my Aunt Clara came into view “Sorry dear” she said in a muffled laugh. “You know how much I love that you were named after my own mother, it’s just such a beautiful name.”
“I’m named after a city in Italy - We’re not even Italian!” The creases around her eyes deepened like the great valleys of the Grand Canyon. Clara tousled her soft golden curls and pinched my cheek leaning down to plant a delicate kiss upon my forehead.
“Dinner’s almost ready and Sam has picked some lovely strawberries from the garden for dessert, sounds good huh?”
“Yep - delightful!”

“I have to say the strawberry tart was delicious. I think we have a young chef on our hands, what do you think Flo?”
“Mmmm” I mumbled.
I don’t think I could seem anymore disinterested, my mind drifted to times of happiness surrounded by my family back at home. What was home anyway? I’ve been sent to live with an Aunt who I haven’t seen since I was born, on a farm 4,000 km from the city with no internet, or connection to any of my friends.
Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” Over the years I’ve really become an excellent liar amongst other things.