Old Memories, New Beginnings

• Elana Richardson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

The sound of car doors slamming, echoed throughout the Patrit's Hollows. No one had dared step foot on the gravel pathways which led onto the stone-bricked mansion in over 50 years. Heavy steps crunched long the gravel, forcing the small rocks to flee to all different areas on the footpath. The mansion was hidden away, tucked under over-grown trees, tall weeds and shrubs. There were bush daisies which spread all along the boundaries of the property, as if it was trying to claim it's territory. The old barbed-wire fence once served its purpose, but now, its only purpose is to give into the undergrowth suffocating it. As the footsteps touched the worn timber floor boards, they started to creak; At the start of the gravel footpath stood the car, which's engine slurred for a moment than stopped with a halt, and again more footsteps were heard walking up the gravel. As the footsteps stopped, there behold, huge dark oak doors, bellowing over them, giving a chilling expression. We heard all up to that point, as I lifted the flap handle, we both peered through the open slip and gasped with our mouths wide open. It was noon, and hard to see anything clearly, but all I could see was a glowing white hand reaching out for the door handle. They were all light-skinned men with silver holstered guns at their sides. One stood with a clear grin crossing his face, the others staring around at the place we used to call home. We both turned to each other, and with no assurance we turned back to face the men. One of them signalled to the other two to follow him around the back of the mansion, we looked back at each other and without realising we just let go of the flap in the door. It slammed against the iron border which was bolted to the door, grabbing the attention of the men in front of it. A gasp of air compressed from our lips and was then sniffed upward through the gap in the door towards the men. I felt as if something had breached me and had taken away my insides as my brown skin stood up with raised small bumps. Then a hand cupped around my lips and cut of my breathing. A hand clutched to my skin and pulled it through the door way, I never saw her again after that. My sister and I were split, never to be seen holding each other's hands again, never to be singing songs and laughing with each other again. The spirit drained out as they lifted me into the car and secured my waist and legs. As the car started moving, I started to realise my surroundings and found my restraints squeezing me; A scream passed from my lips, but didn't seem to be heard. That was the last day I saw my home, my sister and the last day I felt safe and protected. That day was never flooded from my memories, I could always remember every detail. I guess white man will never accept the original owners of this land.