The Treasured Burger

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

Harold stared in awe through the windows, his eyes feasting on the truly beautiful item that lay before him: an untouched burger, sitting on the table, as if waiting for someone to eat it. Silently shuffling towards the entrance of the restaurant, with his eyes glued on the burger; he could almost taste the salty flavour of the meat patty, topped off with a few delightful pickles. However, it was when he took his eyes momentarily from the burger, and looked for any potential traps, when his heart skipped a beat. Before his very eyes, right next to his tasty treasure, was another boy, slightly younger than him, but in the similar ragged clothing that he was wearing. His heart pounding at the thought of his beloved burger being stolen by another person, he dashed through the entrance, ignoring the startled shouts of the customers, his eyes only focused on one thing: burger. Being 2 metres away from the burger, Harold could almost feel the burger in his hands, ready to be eaten. He could not help but close his eyes and relish the taste of the burger that he was about the consume. The thought of the pleasurable aroma of the mayonnaise, and the crunchy texture of the iceberg lettuce was overpowering. He was moving on to the thought of the creamy taste of mustard when his shoulder collided with something hard. A sickening crunch was heard, and pain streaked through his shoulder, like a dagger forcing itself through his bones. Harold collapsed, his body falling like a ragdoll onto the cold, hard, tomato-sauce filled floor of the restaurant. Paralysed to the spot with shock and pain, Harold could only watch in dismay as the boy walked past him, the burger clutched in his hands. A surge of anger passed through Harold’s body, and immediately, he could feel the adrenaline pass through him, overpowering the pain, and giving him the energy to stand up. Ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, he staggered towards the exit of the restaurant, and faced the cold, evening air. Squinting his eyes, he could make out a distinct figure, sprinting away with the burger in his hands. Using all his strength, he stumbled forwards, urging himself to forward on. Clutching his shoulder in agony, Harold started to sprint, his mind only on one thing the burger. Before he knew it, his pure willpower had brought him to the same place as the other boy, and with the remaining strength that he had, he uttered, “Give me back my burger.” The older boy turned, facing Harold, his stunned face staring at the mashed-up burger in his trembling hands. It was then when Harold realized something. All of that time and effort had led to another problem. The burger had been ruined anyways.



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