I Have A Dream

• Emily Harris, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2022

The frigid air was the only thing I was used to in winter, along with my numb fingers, as blue as the ocean. I felt a sense of betrayal watching happy families enter their humble homes when the snow got too cold. They wrapped themselves in blankets, they made themselves a cup of sultry hot chocolate. They never had to worry about being unsafe, being lonesome, yet I do. Every day went by as I sat on the chilly floor with my little brother, Alfie. Snow or rain, sun or clouds, I stayed there, without any family. Until one day, everything changed.
“Please don’t cry, Alfie.” I begged him, cuddling onto his skinny little body, which was wrapped in the only blanket I had. “Shhh,” I whispered. Today the weather was acceptable. A blanket of snow spread across the whole park, giving the jolly children high spirits. Christmas was so beautiful with a home to live in. I remembered what that was like. Having the freedom to run around the town drinking a toasty hot chocolate. I missed it. “I know you do.” I glared up at the voice, uneasy and distraught. “You really, really do.”
His teeth were as yellow as the sun that used to shine above the city of London. His hair was greasy and looked as if even a champion boxer wouldn’t be able to knock one strand of hair out of place. He had eyes like Medusa’s gazing right at me. “I’ve been to many, many kids.” He whispered in a hoarse voice. “They have flooded me with requests - money, pets, mansions. Nobody has asked for a home. Until now. Winter Hart, I can give you a home.” He croaked.
“Liar!” I cried, but deep inside, I wanted to follow him. So I did.
There was one word that kept repeating in my ear. Escape. My stupidity led me to this place, and I was determined to get out. Rats scattered everywhere, in people’s hair and in their shoes. In the room were people like Alfie and I, who were alone and scared. “Any food?” A frail old woman asked me. I searched around my pocket. I felt a piece of stale mouldy bread. My dinner. “Ma’am, please?” She asked. I smiled, as I gave her the bread. “Thank you, ma’am.” She put the bread down, smiling at me with a soft smile. “Your wish is my command.”
‘What does she mean?’ I asked myself. My wish is her command? This woman cannot give me a home! Although maybe she can… “I can give you a roof over your head. My name is Mabel Riddle. Here’s my licence for childcare. This was all a test.” A million thoughts ran through my head. ‘Liar!’ A voice in my head screamed. ‘She is telling the truth!’ Another cried. It seemed like an angel and a devil on each shoulder. I reminded myself to always listen to the angel, then said, “I’m coming home.”