Dawn Till Dusk...

• Lara Ebjadough, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

Another year, another week, another day. These words seemed to weave through my head, utterly incognisant of their pivotal roles in panning out my existence. I pause through my brief moment of self-evaluation and stare up at a flight of stairs, bellowing out my wretched name. Glistening wooden boards adrift, full of tasty morsels eager to jump into my jousting jaws. A gale of wind howling through a nearby window send chills up my black hard shell. I fall into the clutches of my meandering path, helplessly conflicted with my insatiable appetite. I begin routing through the assortment of dust, grime and hair, feeling bold yet feebly bleak. Managing to finally scatter through the fine dining, generously left in abundant amounts, I pick up where I left off and begin to scurry hurriedly before I’m spotted. Countless screams; shrill cries and disgusted facial expressions greet me when I come into contact with the inhabitants of this household. I manage to co-exist peacefully with these creatures so I can’t possibly come to comprehend why they can’t show me the same level of mutual understanding. At times I look into the mirror, appalled by my vile appearance in the hope that I too can run away from myself. Shackled by my motionless state, silence is but the only music resonating through my skull.
Left destitute and imprisoned, I begin to sense my bodily structures failing me. Thick white fog clouds my vision and I seem to come in and out of consciousness. In a bid to outrun the smokeless fog, I head for the obscure coloured ceiling. My shell covering is the only component separating me between the clutches of life and death. Thump, thump, thump. My heart is racing irrefutably. Suddenly a grip like shudder hovers me down and I land in a transparent jar, feeling perplexed at the division of clarity between my confinement and the world outside. Countless numbers of children swarm around me like buzzing bees, laughing, screaming, and crying all at once. All are commending my captor for her bravery, the same bravery, which has me incarcerated in a cage, the same bravery which has me seeking restitution from creatures like her. The same bravery they’re all applauding her for. One of the smaller children tugs on the creature’s blue embellished dress calling her ‘Constance’. The little girl with brown coloured eyes the size of apples insistently questions what she’s going to do with me. Bewildered by the question, Constance replies, “I don’t know?”
***
I latched my long, brown fingertips on the jar. As I began to lower my head, I peered right into the eyes of the sullen creature. Its eyes contained hints of brown, evidently depicting pools of melted chocolate. It scattered around restlessly on its six legs, with its antennae wiggling about. I considered the fate of this scaly creature. My prisoner is merely a child, a black child like me. I stared at this morbid, living being utterly reclusive and subjected to the stereotypes embedded within its shell, my skin. My confounded thoughts however had not fazed me and I did what most people would have done. I took the life of another being, another one of gods’ creations, another soul. History had once again repeated itself for yet another day, another minute and another second would have not altered the fate of such a creature.