New

• Sasha Duschka, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2017

A girl is in a room. She sits.

She sits, legs to her chest, an occasional the odd quizzical look graces her face, pulling her mouth into a wrinkled contortion as she thinks.

She thinks of this room. It is dark, yet warm. It is harm, but comfortable. It is soft, yet firm. They then travel to her, in this room. She has thought of the room, she has come to a conclusion as to what it is (and she is satisfied with this). Now, she wonders why? Why her, why this room, why not another room? Is it a good room for her, is she a good her for the room?

This is what she thinks. When she can’t find the answer, silence ensues. It engulfs her; sears the walls, saturates the atmosphere, the mood is consumed.

She stays in the silence. What is another thought?

She sits and waits, for another thought, another question.

Suddenly, a loud screech sounds.

Where is it? Where was it from? Outside?! Where is outside?! What was the sound?!

She could not hear, yet it continued. She heard it on and on. There were breaks, but it kept going on and on. It has not stopped for more than a second. She had never heard this sound. It wasn’t like the small sounds, but it also came from outside. These were loud, but not complete. There was something in the way.

They continue and continue.

She is scared.

Then, as the sounds become less, not less in number, less in volume and strength, she feels a push.

She’s being pushed!

What to do, what to do, what to do when your room is pushing you out!

But what if it is not her room? What if it was never her room? What if the room has decided it is not hers, not anymore at least.

In the brief relaxation of drowning thought, she is suddenly pushed out, and she feels a grasp on her, a new grasp not that of the room.

Now, she is greeted by a new sound and new thing. The new feeling hurts.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl.”