By : Yatsika Guru- WINNING ENTRY in the age category 9-11 years
    Story of a closet
I was a tree, a gorgeous tree, flourishing on a beautiful tropical island  in the middle of nowhere…that was the life ….There would be new fashion fads everyday on how to ruffle our leaves and where to grow our flowers. Oh! How I loved being a tree….And there was koala, the most magical thing in my life. She would tell me the most beautiful stories. Some would make me snort with laughter while others made me sob like a baby, who was deprived of her egg mash for breakfast. She made my life the life. No human ever stepped on our island, totally not inhabitated
but then the D day came (D day, as in dooms day) and humans those brutes took over our island. Forests were vanishing like they were shimmering mist. Trees were crashing down like they were towers made of toy blocks. I knew my time was up, how I wished my sleeping, snoring legs would wake up and I could sprint away to safety, but there was no changing it, my time was up. After a lot of hiccupping and crying and swallowing hard I convinced koala to leave me and save herself. My friends falling. Koala gone. I blacked out.
    *   *   *
When I woke up, I mean groaned, grunted and woke up, I was in a wood carver’s workshop. It looked like Geppetto’s workshop, as in the story Pinocchio. Then I looked at myself and I nearly screamed out loud. I was looking a mess. I was possibly the ugliest piece of wood on earth. I was all squared and made to look like a closet. But wait a second…I was a closet. A very square, very woody and very ugly (at least I thought so) looking closet. I heard a voice that was saying, “She’s a beauty, mom.” Of course I am a beauty (I mean, was a beauty. Then I heard a very saucy voice saying, “Oh, honey, it’ll be perfect…” Hmph… Some proud mom. Then this pudgy, face-powder and lipstick smothered face with an extremely fat body came in. Her son looked exactly like her… Except he didn’t. Actually he did look like her but he was half her size which made pretty much a lot of difference. Okay anyway… she called out something and two shabbily dressed men came in and caught me by the sides. They staggered and carried me out. I was like,” ooh, aah, gaaah, watch out –AAA, ouch! …” They carried me up some stairs, more stairs some more stairs than a HUGE door, HUGE royal looking hall with crystal chandeliers, marble down. Again they groaned and pushed the door open, I didn’t know it was so hard to open doors. Then they came back and, yeah you’re right, groaned and lifted me and staggered into the room. Okay…, now I know why it had been hard to open the room. Looked like the guy who lived here had deliberately blocked the way. A stash of toy blocks on top of which there was a train set with the railway tracks and on top of that there were some unopened gift boxes and by gift boxes I mean a whole load of them. Now they were all scattered on the floor. A thin, ugly boy was lying on the bed playing on a PSP. He didn’t even look up. One of those groaning guys coughed and said ‘um… sir?” The boy glanced at us for a second and said “Heck’’ and went back to his game. The men sighed and I wanted to ask why they hadn’t groaned this time. They carried me tip-toe across the floor, skipping over the mess on the floor. Then they literally dumped me on the floor, again. They made their way to the door and for the first time, I swear I saw them smile. They shut the door and the next second the boy smashed the PSP on the ground and burst into tears. He stopped suddenly and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Then the pudgy lady stormed in without even knocking. Okay, that was really mean. “Gosh, Hon, look at this mess” she said in her oily, sassy voice without even looking at the stuff on the floor. “Sweetheart, what’ve you done to your PSP? Hon, I’m fed up. Next time you listen to me. I told you that last time too. You just crossed your limits. Honey, you know what that closet’s for? Hm? Hm?” Silence. “Answer me! “ The boy muttered something. “Hm? ” The boy muttered something again. “Didn’t get ya Honey, anyways, that’s your punishment closet. Now you get in and don’t you come out till I tell you to.” She stomped off… The boy didn’t move from the bed. The pudgy mom peeped in again “You get in right now hon, in front of me. There’s a good boy. You stay there, won’t tolerate no nonsense, got it, honey? The boy jerked me open. ‘Ow’. He got in and squatted down in a corner. He put his head down and started sobbing. Don’t laugh, but I m really shy at first. ” Hi” I said softly. He looked up sniffed a bit and went back to his crying. “Ahem!” “Hello?” “Hey, I’m kind of new here, so…” I swear I heard him say, “Great now I’m going wonky. My closet is trying to talk to me. Du’h?” And that pretty much made me lose it. ”Who do you think you are…I exist, and you are not going wonky, you big nutter.” He screamed and ran out flailing his arms around wildly. Did I say something?
*   *  *
It’s really weird with so much going on, but somehow I fell asleep. The boy came in five minutes later with pudgy mom, holding him by the collar. She dragged him and pushed him in me. She locked the door from outside and screeched,”Let’s see you get out now, hear me? He sat down and muttered, “Probably just my imagination.” “Ahem.” “There it goes again.” “I am real.”  “And am going wonky.” “No you aren’t. I tell you, I am real.” ‘’Ladaladaldada” “And you are just as sane as I am.” “I totally doubt your sanity whoever you are.” “Yeah? Well listen to this.” and I poured out my story to him. “Hmm… At least you don’t have a step mom. They’re always horrible.” “Nope. Didn’t you listen? Koala was like a step mom for me, but she was so cool.” “Well, we’re really close
then going through the same torture.” Hm? “You know, I’m stuck with a horrid stepmom and you were forced to leave the best stepmom possible.” “Point.” “Guess you’re the first person to ever understand me.” “Lucky me! I got a cool friend on my first day here!” He beamed and I figured out he’d never had any actual friends. He told me all about himself, how his mom ran away and his dad got married again, how his dad died extremely mysteriously (he told me his suspects, I guess you’ve already guessed who…) how his step-brother knew wood carving and got all the attention and how he was mama’s little Bugsy Wugsy Honey Bunny, how he was home tutored and had no friends…Just then the door swung open and the step-brother sneered and said, “ Lunch is ready, my wittle Bugsy Wugsy”  in high pitched voice in imitation of his mom. He stalked of, sniggering. I said hurriedly “Call me Hazel, what do I call you?” “Max” Putting on an ignorant look, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strutted of, whistling.
 And that was the beginning of a very strong relationship between the oddest of friends…
Life was different…  I told every single story Koala ever told me, to my friend, he in turn told them to the kids outside and he’s made loads of friends… for the first time I actually was the one telling the stories not the one listening…
Wherever Koala is out there, I really, really miss her. It gives me an awfully good feeling to know that her stories are slowly spreading around the world through different children. He spends more time outside now with more friends around him. True, I miss him, but his mom still likes to punish him a lot so, well, there are always new stories for him!
 *        *        *

3 thoughts on “STORY OF A CLOSET

  • April 9, 2013 at 10:24 am

    Wonderful! Great vocabulary and an interesting story by such a young girl. She has a lot of talent! 🙂

  • April 24, 2013 at 6:41 am

    Wow! Mehul dear….very good attempt…keep it up!


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