Balclutha (n.z)

• Anna Murray, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2007

The smooth long gravel drive way leads up to the old stone house. Sniffing all the essences of blooming roses each a different colour of the rainbow all planted between symmetrical box hedge curving its way in and out of the flowers, I walk along the pebbled path everyday I can.
The new and flash horse stables are embedded in yards of green freshly mowed grass, the drops of dew on top of it pulling it closer to the ground. I will feed the horses soon. What a discovery! Scratching new born deer fawns are still keeping close to their brown and placid mothers.
Peering through the big trees and watching golden and magical daffodils dancing in the sunlight, I pick some of the flowers and place them on the newly set table to give each visitor a cheerful smile.
But today watching unpleasant and uninvited rain streaking down the windows like lightning bolts, I felt the saddest I’d ever been. Sobbing but wiping away my tears I tried to hold all my emotions inside me and not let them flow out.
Striding through the bulky oak doors came my grandma with the groceries holding out to me a brown paper parcel held together with green and orange string. I took it out of her hands and carefully pulled the parcel apart. There in front of me was a red raincoat the colour of my favourite rose.
Frantically pulling it over thick layers of my other clothes that are keeping me warm I ran outside and did everything I normally did. Soon it was too dark to be outside playing so I ran inside and pulled the door shut behind me.
Sitting all cosy and warm I felt like a baby wrapped in blankets. The fire would keep me warm until I stumble down the shiny slate floor, pulling the old green shabby blankets over my shoulders. It’s then I know that I will soon be asleep.