The Bearer Of Burdens

• Emily Wakeling, Grade 7, SCHOOL
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

The nine year-old boy stared into the hole between the two white posts, stained with years of service. With the dragon coming closer, the warrior took the risk and kicked the treasure into its rightful resting place. The dragon suddenly turned into his Dad, who ruffled his hair as they strolled out of the park.
“You're better than this, Tim! I can’t believe you! We are going to football training, now!” Mum had lost her patience.
Tim folded his arms to indicate that he was definitely not going. Since the divorce, Tim’s world had been falling apart. He had stopped going to football training and his room was his only refuge. He rushed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The feather that his father had found and given him fluttered down from its place on the shelf.
Tim shut down his thoughts and sprinted through the busy streets of San Francisco. He pushed on, yelling, “I can’t think about it, I refuse to! I can run away… must… escape!”
But even as he declared this, his legs gave way and his body forced him to think about his Dad. He clumped onto the dirty alleyway and sobbed till he fell asleep to the soft, pitter-pattering of the rain.
As Tim awoke to reality, he expected to see his familiar room, but what he saw was a tiny room with a dimly lit fireplace, shelves filled to the brim with medicine, herbs and books, and a diminutive stove and table. He looked around for a door. An ancient woman with white feathers in her jet black hair just stood, watching him. Tim spotted her and screamed.
“It be okay, boy. Me name is Maritonie. Ye poor ‘ittle thing, dearie, I saved ye from the storm, I went to the shops and found ye wet, next to a bin. It's quite a-brewing out there. Come, ‘ave a cuppa tea.”
The shivering boy dissolved into tears. Maritonie made him some tea and offered him a seat. Tim told her his name and then, unexpectedly, he began to pour out his problems. Tim surprised himself, saying all this to a stranger. But he had to let it out.
“Oh, dearie me, these things are hard and they won’t be going away very quickly.”
Tim’s eyes welled up again, his heart filled with despair.
“Tim dear,” Maritonie continued, “If ye keep holdin’ on to the pain, it won’t help, but if ye just let go, things will get better. Dearie, ye need to take the first step.”
Tim seemed to take in what she was saying. Maritonie told him he should be getting home and opened the door. Suddenly, a bird flew over-head, as if sent from Heaven, and the tiniest feather came floating down.
“Don’t let the ol’ blues get ye down,” she whispered, picking up the feather and placing it in his hands.
“Why be the bearer of burdens, when ye can be as light as a feather?”