That Ominous Figure & My Childhood

That Ominous Figure

     That ominous figure in the night, creeping up on me as I sleep my stomach crying my mind affright.

     The figure thumps towards me, and in that mysterious and horrifying darkness I make out his face.

      He is a pale man, his stomach a balloon about to pop from all the food he has kept for his greedy self.

      His footsteps shake the floor thunderously beneath him, his footsteps are like volcanic eruptions.

      Each one causing yet another human being to be in danger.

      And the retched stench of him is unbearable.

       It is as if he has eaten all the fried chicken in the world and the chicken flesh is rotting away inside the vortex of his massive stomach.

      As he comes closer and closer the figure’s face is revealed.

      Hunger’s round head thick with wrinkles as if he has suffered many depressions, is like a shirt crumpled into a ball and just left somewhere for someone else to have to deal with.

       I am intrigued yet terrified at what my eyes examine about this unfamiliar and sinister man.

 Yet he is still coming closer and closer, approaching me from across the pitch-black room.

 His plump sausage like fingers reach toward me, they try to grab a hold of my frail body.

      I slip away out of his reach. I am not letting this horrible man steal me away without a fight.

      I dash off the bed in a frantic gesture to avoid his crushing body.

 He is chasing me around the room, a toddler trying to get his prized toy back for his enjoyment only.

     The thrashing pain in my stomach makes me weak and I come to a stop, he is handicapping me.

     At last Hunger catches up with me, my feeble body lying helplessly on the floor in a clump of despair.

    As this gluttonous and menacing man takes a hold of my body I cannot fight his warm touch, one that is very deceitful, I fall into a deep sleep one that is not awoken by nightmares of hunger.

   That ominous figure has eaten me whole, my hunger has eaten me.

My Childhood

       There was the peaceful tranquility of the Singaporean breeze and the fertile, lush grass of our backyard, hidden away from the noises of the busy city.

       There were the muggy hot days of summer where the heat was a blanket weighing me down as I tried to walk along the Singaporean streets.

        There was the shrill shrieks of the babies at the daycare, crying till’ they had a burning whole in their tiny hearts.

       There was the frigid rush of a nice icy smoothie, chilling my body with the fresh and delicious taste of dragon fruit and bananas.

        There was the traumatic flight over the humongous Pacific Ocean, a devastating experience being suspended in the crisp air surrounded by picturesque clouds.

        There was the first time I smelled and tasted the salty sea air, an invigorating feeling that I will never forget. 

        There was the final descent into a place where trees were to a minimal and fields of luscious corn were replaced by ominous buildings and obnoxious cars.

       There was a new life bestowed upon our family. A sister I had received, and one that I would learn to love and cherish, her little pink feet like baby mice squirming around. 

        There was the joy of our first Christmas as a family, one filled with delectable scents of cinnamon and pine, an adventurous journey of the nostrils and the soul.

       There was the horrific feeling of being suspended in the air falling downward, a meteorite deteriorating away until the impact of the ground. And then the sirens and screams followed my dreadful fall. Finally, I end up in the sterile and depressing hospital.

        There was my first true friendship, one that was bonded between the rocks of the Dumbo playground and the aromatic scents of Girmaldi pizzas.

        There were the extravagant and beautiful days of spring accompanied by a symphony of budding flowers and trees and the luminescent glow of the sun.

        There was the gateway into middle school life, one full of drama and experience, a predator creeping up on its prey until, with one swoosh, it has defeated it.

          There was the magical bond between the world of dance and me, one that was very passionate and inspirational..

         There was the journey of a lifetime being able to visit countries with cultures so vivid and deep and the food and environment so fertile and delectable it kindled my senses and my understanding of the world. And by the end I feel as if I am living with an aspect of the place inside my heart and soul.

Emily Soule
Age 13, Grade 8
Packer Collegiate Institute
Silver Key

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