A Terrible Evening

• Josh Hoschke, Grade 10, Nambour Christian College
• Short Story
• 2013

Excellence Award in the 'Dream Big 2013' competition

He lies awake. Spent. The blankets are pulled right up to his eyes. The dishwasher hums in the room opposite. Everything is perfect.
But there's work to be done.
He has it all sorted out. His plan is foolproof. The last fifteen minutes have been spent observing his surroundings and organising his thoughts. And now he knows exactly what to do.
The book is face down, and his right hand is clasped around the spine. Closing it, he sweeps the crumbs off his bed. The book is carried on to land on his bed-side table. His hand continues its sweeping motion, hooking a cup with his forefinger, leaving his other fingers open to collect a small blue piece of paper.
Begin part two. The paper and the cup are deposited into a bowl. His left hand rises from beneath his pillow to connect with the bowl, wrapping his fingers around it. His right hand has now found the edge of the bed, assisting his legs in bringing his torso upright.
He tilts to the right, and his hand grasps a wet towel lying on the ground. Rising, he walks through the doorway, and throws the towel onto the floor of the room opposite.
A left turn.
One full-circle spin is required, during which the light switch is flicked, the door pulled closed and the small blue piece of paper placed on his desk.
Not much left now. Four paces to the kitchen sink. He places the cutlery to his left, fills a cup with water, and turns around.
But something's wrong.
She's here.
She sits on his desk. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar, demanding food. All around her is mess and clutter; a trail of destruction. It's disgraceful.
He swoops in. She lets out a wail and pushes off the desk, carrying along all of her mess. Reaching out wildly, she slides into the next room. Who said they always land on their feet?
A crash follows her exit. He turns back.
It's worse than he thought.
He had almost finished picking up the glass when a drip lands on his hand. Water has spread across most of his desk, and he begins to frantically grasp at whatever he might salvage. Just as a spark announces the lights withdrawal.
Panic moves quickly through the dark. He grapples against the night, all the while cursing his parents for leaving open cords in the wall. One hand finds a book. The other a stuffed toy. He sweeps over so many things he doesn't notice the switch he flicks. But he does notice the red glow that follows.
He's patting down the walls when he hears the hissing sound of burning paper. A flame jumps up from his hot plate, leaps, dances, devours. It consumes so quickly he doesn't have time to watch it, let alone do something about it.
Quick, he has to think.
His plan has been ruined. Everything spoilt. Lives will be changed forever.
Damn cat.