At last, I was in Egypt. I knew this because, even though I was blind, I could smell the dust in the air and hear the wind in my ears, and I just knew. I was savoring the feel of this land when I suddenly fell on my knees. I was so…exhausted.
Flash.
I could suddenly see again. My vision was hazy, but I could make out a familiar looking woman. She was carrying a venomous, spitting asp on her hand. I looked around me. I was inside a structure with chalky bricks lining the walls and all kinds of treasure around me. The woman let the asp loose, and I watched helplessly as it latched onto my neck.
Flash.
I opened my new eyes, and found myself next to my mom, who was pleasantly cooking a piece of meat over a fire. A burst of wind blew at my frame, and a sad voice echoed in my mind. This was how I died. I understood that that experience was meant to be kept secret. A silent compromise passed between me and the voice, and in a moment, the wind died out completely, leaving me in the silence of night.
Yada P. [Chiang Mai, Thailand] is a 12 year old 7th grader who wrote a book at the age of seven. She studies ballet, jazz, Chinese, Chinese and Korean flute, badminton, and a bit of acting. She loves to sing.
© 2009 Yada P. Original for CCF. Yada P. grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology.
* CCF does not publish students' last names on the work they submit for publication.
Printer page
Email article
Top of Page
