A Little Piece Of White Paper
Laura Benney, Grade 8, Ballarat High School
2nd in the 'Written in the Stars 2013' competition
In our world it seems all the stories told are always big. Stories of amazing people, of past battles and heroic deeds, even life itself is a massive exciting story. But in the deepest depths of my mind I never cease to wonder about the small stories. Some of which are so remarkably, phenomenally bizarre and miraculous they simply must be told. This story is one of them.
We begin in a somber office block, where all the people pressed and preened in grey suits labour endlessly, glumly and repeatedly. Their minds swinging somewhere in the Barbados, far from reality as they unconsciously try to look inconspicuous as their boss makes his afternoon rounds.
The window had been opened in a vain attempt to let fresh air and the smells of the outside world fill the dingy, dark and disconsolate office. Innocently sitting on a desk getting fluttered and lifted slightly by the breeze coming through the window, there lay dormant a piece of white paper.
Not special paper by any account, having no admirable colours or magnificent, intricate designs. It was simply a white piece of copy paper resting there in the depressed office space, tattered and dog-eared in the corner, looking out of place as if it did not belong in the office and felt as much woe being there as the people.
The piece of paper was different to the workers though in the lucky reality that it could leave, and it did. A soft gust of wind blew through the window, not hard or powerful but gentle and careful, and caressed the paper in its grip lifting it promptly out the window where it was caught by another gust and pushed, dancing along the street.
It did not land however to be condemned to a life of being trampled and thrown to the tip, even when the wind lessened slightly. The feet that could have destroyed the piece of paper instead swept it along, allowing it to flutter slightly on the air they moved as they stepped so hurriedly along the pavement.
By the time the piece of paper got to a street where nobody was a gust of wind caught it again and blew it through an open window. And whether it was commanded by some powerful, silent and unknown voice or by complete and utter miracle that little plain piece of paper landed on a desk amongst pens, its body still warm from the sun’s rays and its dog-ear smoothed out by the moulding wind.
It doesn’t matter where that little piece of white paper ended up, whether you are reading off it, or whether it hosts your favourite story. All that matters is that that little piece of paper existed and was here and that it went on an extraordinary journey even if you didn’t realise it or notice. It makes you wonder, how many more little stories happen in our world? Stories that seem unimportant but are exceptional, breath taking and timeless.