this throwback is a bit more sombre. it's actually a piece i wrote for a competition a couple of years ago but you had to pay to be shortlisted and little broke kid me wasn't up for that. so here it is, enjoy:
He told me to observe, so I did. I sat on the park bench just as the sky was turning into that pink-orange haze that looks supernatural, and I watched.
On the playground next to me, kids ran gleefully repeating the same cycle over and over again. Up the ladder, through the tunnel, down the slide and repeat. It didn’t matter how many times they did it, each one was better than the last.
The road nearby was filled with people doing a different kind of pattern. Wakeup, work, sleep and repeat. They didn’t look as excited as the kids. It didn’t seem like each day was better than the last. I hoped they were happy.
Above me, birds flew in a v-formation. It looked like they were going to war. Little winged soldiers leaving their wives and babies worried in nests far away. I wondered what they would be trying to achieve through fighting. Maybe they’d battle for a piece of the sky they could much more easily share. I didn’t know.
The path was filled with couples strolling hand-in- hand basking in each other’s company and the late sun’s rays. They walked lazily, taking in their surroundings. Next to them, people ran – oblivious to the beauty that was so close – with one purpose. Eye’s on the prize.
Down at the beach, a little girl worked diligently building a castle out of the soft, silky sand. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth, her blond curls dancing in the wind, as her little hands patted the sand into place. Just as she sat back proudly to admire her handiwork, a wave rolled in and snatched it away in seconds leaving her with mud and tears.
The wave retreated back to its home in the ocean only to be kicked back out to the shore. The ocean glimmered like broken glass, a sleeping monster for now. It stayed while everything around it constantly changed. I speculated about out how many stories it held, how many places the water had been. It could have gone everywhere but not. Nevertheless, the water continued to sway back and forth, back and forth.
And as the sun continued to fall slowly, the night owls started to awake. The alcoholics stirred, getting ready to turn their blood into liquor and wash away their past of regrets and shame for another night. I wondered what hurt them. They used alcohol like a Band-Aid to protect themselves for awhile but I guess eventually all Band-Aid’s had to get ripped off, right? I wished their pain could be healed.
I sat on that park bench for one whole minute, but eventually I had to move on. So I walked away without leaving a trace, while the world still continued to turn.
(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)
