Déjà Vu

• Deema Abdel Khaleq, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2021

Crunch, crunch. To my ears, the sound of my lethargic feet trampling on the wilted autumn leaves was indeed a soothing and satisfying sound although not long after my focus was diverted to my slender-like fingers, which were barely grasping onto an unnecessarily large, smelly garbage bag. Then again, it was my responsibility to take out the rubbish every other week.

As I hurriedly crammed the hefty bag into the towering dustbin to flee from the nauseating stench, something enthralling had seized my attention. There seemed to be subtle whistling. As I tentatively peered my rather sluggish eyes toward the soulless brick fencing along the front yard, the whistling only became piercingly louder. Was it the secluded neighbours that were almost often, if not always soundless? I instinctively thought.

It's inconceivable. I could hear the distinctive sound of the peculiar, buoyant whistling which still lies behind the lame brick wall as my thoughts are re-living themselves in my head. I had come to the realisation that I'd been blatantly standing there for at least what seemed like minutes now, obliviously entranced by the sound of one that could perhaps even be an angel. It was only when I arose from the trance I had been in was when the sudden spirit of inquiry hit me and I was yearning to seek for the source of what sounds like ecstasy.

...

Tik… tik… tik. The heedless, monotonous ticking sound of the antique, analogue clock brought me back to reality as I considerately flicked the brittle pages of the exhilarating book that settled on the tips of my fingers. Coincidentally enough, as I was poring over the pages confined with eloquent words, I impulsively remembered that it was the allocated day to dispose of any remaining garbage vacated in the house.

Hastily, I scampered towards the door which seemed like miles away whilst I clenched onto the matte black, paunchy garbage bag. I was fixated on finishing the book I'd begun. I fled the house then vigilantly settled the bag into the waste-bin.

Not long after, I gradually made my way back in... but just before I could even reach for the burnished handle of the hinged door, my ears managed to pick up an imperceptible noise.

I couldn't quite fathom as to what it was exactly. However, a strong instinct of mine drew me to the direction of the sound.


Was it simply a figment of my imagination? I pondered. It wasn't, I concluded. It was completely contrary to what I had anticipated. Nevertheless, it was a seraphic whistle. One that appeared calm on the outside but truly seemed like anything from serene on the inside.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of déjà vu.