The Never Ending Wish

Carli's Narrative

Under The Bed

As I sit there slaving around after my family, I watch my brother getting beaten for not collecting the firewood. My name is Miya and I live in South America, my family is very poor - I live in a house made of mud, flax and bamboo. In our house we have only two beds, one for Aunty and one for Dad. My mum died only two years ago from not eating and drinking enough. My brother and I haven’t started school yet because we have to work to make money to buy food. My brother is 12 years old and I’m only 8. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I work at a clothing shop, that’s how I got my pretty new blue dress but Dad wasn’t very impressed because I didn’t get paid that week. I’m too young to get beaten so I was punished and was not allowed eating for three days and doing a double lot of chores for a week. My life is bland and boring - there is nothing enjoyable about it.

This morning when I woke up I gave a quick glance around the room and to my surprise I found my Aunty spread out in the middle of the floor. I raced over as fast as I could, but there was no movement what so ever. I went outside to get some help there was no one in sight. I ran back to her side the only thing that I felt like I could do was to grab my teddy, hold it tight and pray. I had never done that before but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I sat on my knees and tightly squeezed hers and the teddy’s hand and prayed with all I had. I then grabbed the only blanket we had. It was old and brittle. I wrapped it around her thin, bony body and waited for about 10 minutes.  Suddenly I saw movement, her eyes slightly opened and she squeezed my hand tighter. She opened her mouth and mumbled to me ‘under my bed is a box, when I am gone, get it and never come back’.

Later that afternoon I heard a shriek. I ran back into my room there was no sign of Aunty: she had vanished. I looked out on the roads there was only an old lonely man that lived across the street, who was stumbling about alongside of the road but he was harmless. So I followed her instructions. I crept into her cold, dark room and knelt down on her cold unbalanced floor. I lifted up her slim frail sheets only to find that there was nothing under her bed it was completely empty nothing in sight. I wondered to myself why she would give me false information, why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true. How come when she vanished so did the box. Then I started to wonder if there ever was a box, but she wouldn’t lie to me would she. I guess whatever was in the box must have been important enough to tell me never to come back. My mind was completely stumped.

Later that night Dad came home. I tried to tell him about what happened to aunty but he was really angry. He hurt my brother and I. He threw stuff at us and abused us. So my brother and I ran. We ran into the richest place about eight blocks down the road we put on our cutest faces and politely asked if we could use the phone. We rang the police. We felt really guilty but at the same time, pleased.

Dad was put into jail and we now live eight blocks down from our old house in the richest house on the road. We start school next week and we have our own beds. We still have to do chores but this time we get the money. We can spend it on anything we like I might even buy a red dress. But every day I think about what could have been under the bed.

Carli

The First Day