A DARK LIFE

• Anmol Arora, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

I was sitting under the same bridge, with the same clothes, I waited. Waited for someone kind enough to give me some change. My stomach grumbled as loud as a whale, I hadn’t eaten anything more than some stale bread in the past day. In front of me, passed what would have been the two hundredth heartless person, not even caring to look at me let alone say a warm hello. Its almost as if no-one could see me, no-one could see the unforgiving tears in my eyes. I felt like a plastic bag that had been thrown out because it had a hole in it.

My mothers last word echoed inside of me, “Live your life, the best you can, there is no one that can stop you ever.” These words were perhaps the only reason I’m still here today, hoping that my life might turn upside-down. In front of my eyes I saw a little child, no more than five or years old who galloped beside his parents with happy little eyes and a huge smile covering his face. Memories flood through every part of my body. Living in our tiny apartment, just Mum and myself. Our countless, never-ending conversations about nothing in particular. We never had much money at all, but regardless,those were the best times. Those were the times that I would kill anyone to see again, but believe me, no matter how much a little child prays, his mother never returns.

I was starting to feel the warmth of my mother when suddenly, everything went pitch black. My eyes soon adjusted to the darkness only to see light at the far end of the valley, between the jagged cliffs, on the top of a massive block of ice, a huge building. It resembled a castle, with it's tall towers, thick columns and ice and snow that surrounded the windows like silver wreaths on a Christmas tree. I looked upon myself, I am the prince with more jewels on me than I could count, lying on a velvet round bed with a satin silky robe. No soon as I open my eyes about half a dozen attendants surround me to offer their services, I can see fresh fruit and delicious food spread on my right, a chocolate fountain around the corner, trays loaded with sweets and lollies. On my right is the warm pool filled with fresh fragrant flowers, mesmerising my senses. This is could be a scene from one of the fantasy land bedtime stories my mother told me every now and then.

Within the next few moments, I wake up outside the castle barefoot on snow, chill in the air goes through my bones and all jewels start dropping and disappearing in the layers of snow. I can feel the freezing breeze and hear the grumbling sound of my own empty stomach. Sitting under the old rusty bridge, here I am living in the real harsh world. Maybe these hallucinations are the only thing keeping me going, taking me away from reality...the harsh reality. If this is a disease, I would die without it.