I Am Free

• Nayla Chiha, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2019

A cold gust of wind comes in the open window of the jail cell where I sit. Shivering, I walk towards the bars keeping me from the outside world, and peek out. All the captives are asleep. I trudge back to the corner of my cell and sit down. I think about the reason why I’m here. It wasn’t my fault the heartbreaking fire started, it was her.

Her name makes me cry. Her name makes me angry. Her name makes me wonder. Her name is Cordelia.
I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Cordelia. Cordelia started it. She was evil. She was my best friend, and she betrayed me. I think about Cordelia, and I start to cry.

The tears land in a puddle at my feet. Through my blurry eyes, I see a pile of plastic bricks pushed under the door of my cell. I get up to see who gave them to me, the tears still splashing down, but no one was there. “Thanks,” I whisper in the dark.

The candlelight is just enough for me to see. I push the plastic bricks together to make a model. I break it again.
It’s a long, freezing night and my limp body aches with cold. I push the bricks together to make another model. This time I glue it together with wet concrete. If only I had some cogs and gears to make this come alive…
At that thought, my mind took me back 5 years ago. Back to the 1 thing I remembered mum saying to me…
“You have a talent for making things. Use it to change your life.”

After my thoughts brought me back to reality, I looked around in the dark for something to turn into a cog or gear. Under the door of my dark cell, another shape is visible in the candlelight. I pick it up. Cogs! Gears! The things I wanted!
But something was wrong. Who was giving me all these things?

I asked the darkness who was there, and no answer awaited me.

The cogs and gears are in place and finally, my invention works. I play with it in the loneliness of my cell to entertain myself.

The guards come down the hallway for night time inspection and throw my invention out of the window. That makes me cry.

One of the guards has dropped his knife into my cell. I pick it up.
Once, I thought life was not worth living, being in jail for a crime you did not commit.
I plunge the knife into my chest.
But I don’t die. I lie in the cell, awaiting my future.

The next morning, I can’t see. The light is so blinding.
Then I realise.
I am free.
The smell of the food in the marketplace overwhelms me. I haven’t seen this many people in years. I think about how lucky I am, as I skip along home.