Sakria

The footsteps thundered overhead. Sakria pushed herself against the walls of the cupboard desperately wishing she could vanish into it. She would have gone in the hedge but he found her last time. This is it she thought as she felt the doors shaking. The gap of light grew to engulf her in her small hiding space.
“I thought I told you NEVER to come back!” he yelled, his horrible breath filling the cupboard. He pulled her out and shoved her roughly onto the ground where he spat. “Street filth!” he yelled the tone made Sakria shiver as she slowly picked herself up and started down the road. She could feel his stare sinking into the back of her neck.
At the street corner Sakria quickly doubled back and jumped through a smashed window in one of the apartments. “Come on Falafel” she said quietly to a small dog resting in the corner. The room was bare of any furniture except a cracked mirror that was coated in a thick layer of dust. The walls were covered in pictures, drawn with a steady hand and quite beautiful really. She rushed around the room gathering what small belongings she had and putting them in a dirty, brown rucksack. Whilst putting her paintbrush and watercolours into the bag she looked into the cracked mirror. “Street filth?” she barely whispered under her breath. “Surely, surely there’s more to me than that”. But the mirror still reflected the thin girl with scraggly brown hair and dirty clothes that didn’t fit. Not that she expected otherwise.
“One day Falafel, one day I’ll be as beautiful as the girls in the paintings with millions of dresses and flowing blonde hair, we’ll have enough to eat every day and we’ll live in a massive mansion” she said “we will be more than mere street filth”.
The wind blew through the shed doors, biting into her skin and sending shivers down her spine. “It’ll have to do Falafel” she said quietly barely audible above the howling wind. As she entered a building, the dawn sun rose from the darkness, illuminating a small portion of a run-down street, an old warehouse on the corner. Sakria huddled against the wall, trying desperately to exclude the frost bite. It was then she noticed a boy, haggard in appearance, probably her age. It was now Sakria realised that her dreams were wrong all along. Maybe it was in his eyes or the way he held out his hand too her, but something about him told Sakria, she wasn’t alone- not anymore.
For years, the rest of the world was oblivious to what was going on inside that shed. They were never to know that at that moment a starving child was painting the last of her pictures. They would never know that a young boy had failed to find something to eat. They would never know that that sunrise would signal their last battle against the bitter cold. We will never know.

-Lily Mitchell Year 8 All Hallows' School

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