Day Dream

• Talia Simos, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2018

The bitter wind brushes my cheek as we tear through the sparse, dusty terrain. With my feet fastened firmly in the brass stirrups I let my body lift and stay there for one moment. It is as if time stands still. I feel alive and free, like a soaring bird with outstreched wings . The dark, glossy mane of my black stallion flows majestically in the wind like the ribbon of a ribbon dancer. The glorious southern skies above me are dotted with wispy sunset clouds like delicate brushstrokes across a canvas and speckled with glimmering stars like glitter sprinkled across the sky.

I take a deep breath of air; the sweet aroma of forest pine drifts up my nose, unusual for the outback. The setting sun casts a harsh golden light on my face as if it is shining on me alone and neglecting the rest of the world. I can hear a hushed murmur coming from the distant rocks followed by a consistent beeping noise. I’m just hearing things, aren’t I? The peculiar sounds and aromas get louder and stronger until my senses become overwhelmed. The sky turns black and my surroundings gradually fade…

The repetitive mechanical beeping continues, only it’s louder than before. I still smell pine and hear murmuring from a distant place that seems impossible to reach. Everything is black and it takes me a moment to realize that my eyes are closed. I try to open them but it feels like they have been sealed shut like envelopes. I hear an unfamiliar voice say my name. For a brief moment the murmurs stop as I use all my strength to open my weary eyes. A harsh beam of light is cast onto my face, partly blocked by the silhouette of an unfamiliar man wearing a pristine white coat. The beeping continues. But the murmurs have stopped.

I turn my aching neck to the side and see a cleaner’s trolley stocked with mops, pans, brushes and a bright emerald bottle labeled “Pine Fresh’’. I lift my throbbing head to see what is above me, but it is not a beautiful outback sunset, it’s a dated grey ceiling. To my right is a collection of around four machines linked to my body by a series of intertwining cords and wires all beeping in unison. Past them are four crouched figures, sitting on a tiny sofa. My eyesight is still blurry but I recognise the people in the chairs; my mum, dad, sister and my best friend. I look down and realise that I’m in a bed, a bed with spotless, white sheets and covers. I know where I am. I’m in my hospital bed. The same place I have been for the past month. It happened again; my mind drifted back to the outback. Back to when I could ride. Before the wheelchairs and the doctors and the beeping machines. Before my accident. I was just daydreaming.