This story is part of the literary competition created by In Trieste magazine “Winter in Trieste” which was open to all writers living in Trieste.
by Rohan Bakshi
A cold gust of wind hits my face as I step outside. As my body gets colder I start to sniff but that doesn’t stop me from jumping on my bouncy trampoline. The later the time, the colder the weather. When the cold wind gets intense I go inside and watch as the trees swing around in the cold air.
After I eat my steamy, red pasta I watch the people dressed in their thick jackets walk by my house. When the moon comes out I lay in my soft bed.
I start drifting off into the imaginary world. In my imaginary world the cold wind suddenly became boiling hot but I am still wearing my cosy warm clothes. The wind comes to a sudden stop and the people around me start thinking the wind is gone. I started walking around Piazza Oberdan seeing the buses go in and out of the round circle.
I was walking around to where I knew my house would be but the lights were out and none of the lamps on the road were working. When I was walking back I lost my way and was stuck on an abandoned hill with one house with all the lights on.
I started to hear the faint ticking of a clock as I got closer to the mysterious house. When I was in front of the house I started hearing someone shouting “wake up!” In a blink of an eye my world filled with water and then I woke up. It was all a dream, turns out the power went out and my fan stopped ,my alarm clock went off, my mum was trying to wake me up for school and my mum tried to wake me up by pouring water on my face.
As I rushed to drink my morning hot chocolate from downstairs, my mum told me she forgot that today was a Sunday and I was excruciatingly angry because I was soaking and it was awake at 7:00 in the morning. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t.
