The Phoenix

• Opal Plaha, Grade 5, St Ives North Public School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

The candle drooped towards the edge of the table in tranquillity. A cool wind blew into the abandoned room, the salty breeze washing away the memories of the cold, sandy, shed. The gritty plate with the candle clattered to the floor with a flourish, the fire fuelling towards the discouraging door.
* * *
Rain pattered against the dim window, the hearth burned contentedly, melting the snow in the chimney. Sooty logs were stacked at a corner, infusing a charcoal fragrance about the room. A murmur whispered from the couch about a burning shed, then a shriek resounded around the bay. The coat was ripped off it’s hook with a flaunt, and the door slammed. Sirens echoed throughout the night, even the fire glowed brighter in the inky darkness.
* * *
The evening sun blazed on the harsh landscape. A rustle in the bushes brought the shrill whistle of a bird to an abrupt stop. A small figure darted towards the ashen remains of the shed. He searched wearily in the sooty logs for something, then sank to his knees.
‘My home! My only home.’ He whimpered, then ran hopelessly into the forest.
* * *
Leaves rustled in the wintry sunrise, the crows cawing to each other in the gnarled roots of the oak tree. A quiet figure sat at the police station. Then he stood and strode to the smoky edge of the salty bay. He examined the wreckage of the shed and made notes. He tipped his hat to the children frolicking about. A smile of amusement played on his lips as he picked up the toy bear from the debris, and trooped back to the station.
* * *
Signs for adoption flapped in the breeze. Passers-by stopped to read. Some reached for their cell phones and talked for few minutes before hastening on with a smile. Meanwhile, the police station had a small mob of officers crowded around a man who was beaming amiably.
‘How did you figure this out?’ the chief inquired.
‘It was the simple art of looking.’ The man rummaged through his backpack and held out a sooty bear. ‘That’s when I found this.’
A lady officer was answering calls from expectant foster parents. Occasionally she would mutter about silly flyers.
* * *
He shot from the forest, his face streaked with mud; clothes in tatters. He was frail from trying to survive in the forest. A fire lit his face, and a firm hand held him. He screamed, but the crowd gathered only grinned. ‘Who would you like to live with, young man?’ A voice inquired. The boy stared up at the plump face and then at the enthusiastic crowd around him. Then he noticed a girl and her mother. They stood isolated from the crowd, looking at the boy. Thoughts of his lost family came rushing to him.
* * *
‘Thanks…madam.’ He picked up the new lunch box.
‘Silly boy, aren’t you Phoenix? To you I’m mum!’
‘Ok. Mum.’ She kissed him and waved them off to school.
And so the Phoenix flew...