LaFerrari

• Joshua Kuzmis, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

A faint roar in the distance intensified as if its celerity was increasing. I noticed a bright light being reflected off a vehicle in my rear-view mirror. The car gloated its agility and tumultuous roar as if it was livid. It was approaching my side view. The car was shining its red bonnet, for all the other inferior, covetous vehicles to observe.

It was an Italian LaFerrari, there were only 499 originally made upon its production. I have invariably been fascinated with Ferraris ever since I was 10 years old; The LaFerrari is the superlative of all Ferraris.

The sun was setting over the horizon: it was a prepossessing appearance reflected on the LaFerrari. The Ferraris steady motion approached the intersection: It turned left. As I continued further along the road, I could still hear the muffled roars of this almost incredible Hybrid.

I conceptualised what my life would be like if I owned a LaFerrari: The thought of it seems excellent. Unfortunately, my Toyota Yaris is over 3 years old and extremely rusty, especially the dirt along the surface of the doors.

As I was driving home, I came upon a traffic light that signalled me to stop. I slowed my automobile down until it was at 0 km/h. I espied an elderly man, he seemed dejected. His clothes were decrepit, he had grey facial hair and grime on his forehead. He began to trudge to the other side of the road. He examined my vehicle as he was walking by. My headlights gleamed among his pale face, with a sudden grin: his eyes widened with slight glee. The light turned green, looking at the man's joyful face I put my foot back on the peddle and drove off.

Less than 5 minutes later, I stop at boom barriers. Waiting patiently for the train to pass, I noticed the elderly man again. I thought it was just a coincidence. The man unexpectedly stopped walking, near a large tree. He went on his knees and put his head on the grass coming out of the cracks in the sidewalk. I put a firm grip on the steering wheel and turned my head to face front.

With feelings of sympathy for the poor man, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was about 10º Celsius, I was shivering. I turned to look at the pitiful man, we looked directly into each other's eyes. Hoping the train will finish passing by, the elderly man closed his eyes.

Later that week, I forgot all about the man. I turned the television on while eating my cereal, I happen to see the road I was on where the train was passing. There were policemen on the scene, and the news reporter spoke and wouldn't stop for a breath: "This just in, a 78-year-old man is found deceased, investigators…”.

I froze, dropping my spoon in the bowl. I stood up, my mind thought about so many things, it was painful. Tears dropped from my eyes into the cereal. I was silent and sorrowful, I couldn't even explain it. I went to my room and took down all my LaFerrari posters, I was furious and miserable. I slammed the posters into the bin and I cried.

I was so naive, all I wanted was possessions and to be wealthy; I felt so horrible about how shallow I was. That man had absolutely nothing, and I wasn't even grateful for the simple things because I took them for granted, things that would have made him conceptualise about what his life would be like if he owned them.