Resting Place

• Jess Pretorius, Grade 10, St Brigid's College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

I placed my hand on the cold metal door handle, turned the knob until it gave way and used my force to push forward. I shut the door and felt the sensation of the latch clicking into the lip of the door frame. I turned around leaning my heavy and tired hard working back against the now locked door. I could taste the coolness in the air, feel the emptiness in the room; not a soul nor friend to keep me company. Just an old wooden rickety bed with only a pale blue blanket that barley covers my body, and a single pillow to be my friend.

As I took a step forward, I felt the small pieces of carpet wiggle its way through the gaps between my toes, making my whole body grow warm and push away the coolness that was overtaking me. I turned back to the door, admiring the harsh scratches on the lovely brown wooden frame with my fingertips. Thanking it for the protection it provides, thanking it for quietness it brings towards the room, thanking it for keeping me separate from the horrors that are promised on the other side.

I placed my aged hand to its side, wrinkled and experienced but still strong, feeling for the spot that I knew the light switch would be. When I felt the horizontal switch I pressed it, only slightly but enough for it to give way and make the room fill with darkness. I then turned and placed my hand against the wall to guide me though the room towards the bed. Every step feel like it was my last, I guided my way though the room, my fingers feeling numb and flat. I waited until I felt the narrowness to the wall caving in to make the corner. There I knew the bed stood.

I bent down, stretching my thin weak arms until my hands were touching the hard but cool foam mattress that will soon soothe me to sleep. As I sat on the hard but thick piece of furniture, I heard a creek, not a creek that says I'm too heavy, but a creek that says it was old. I looked around the room and sensed that it was late, midnight even.
I slowly leaned back, until my whole body was vertical to the mattress that I was lying on. I placed my hand around the bed, feeling for the warm touch of the woollen blanket. Once my thin old fingers touched the warm soft wool of the blanket, I grabbed it, held it like it was going to be ripped out of my hands as soon as I touched it. I pulled it towards me, and curled up in the foetal position, wrapping it around every part of my skinny, curled up body. I closed my eyes and a sudden peacefulness came though me. Even though my age took away my sight, I knew my time had come.