There's a competiotion in magazine i read. You have to write about some picture. I tried once and I failed, so I thought that might be a good idea to show it to you. Simple and short and, of course, with picture.
I hope you'll like it.
Theater
The day began as usual. Sadly. At six o'clock the sound of rain woke me up.
Open eyes. Get out of bed. Breakfast. No, no breakfast. Coffee ... no, just
strong tea. School. Strange ... I felt completely ridiculous fear of school,
paralyzing me every morning. But I've never been ridiculed, abused, or even
gossiping, despite the unusually low growth ... This strange fear was - even
for myself - just a mystery.
But of course I went there, as always. Slowly, without haste ... shuffling in
the pouring rain. Feeling more lonely than usual in a big building,
I escaped from the "colleagues" and curled up on the floor at the
classroom door.
I closed my eyes. I stopped to hear what's going on around me, drifting away. I
left, disappeared ...
I missed this place. I come here very often.
I opened my eyes. I was still hunched over, but now I heard nothing but
silence.
I straightened up, came down from the high stool and looked around, especially
trying to figure out where exactly I am. I haven’t thought about it before.
Everything was much higher than it should, and I found myself smaller and
younger than I should. In fact, I was a little boy again, gray and sad. I stood
on the big stage, in the theater filled with people. I did not feel
intimidated, on the contrary: only here, I felt that I was in place I belong.
It was here where I used to come in hardest moments of my life.
I lived because of it, I dreamed and thought only about it. I did not completely
understand it, but I loved it. Only when the time does not matter, when nothing
really matters, you can feel really safe. I can feel really safe. I stood up.
From the audience came an undamped laughter: here I have always been who I felt
like - quite independently of age, and this place existed after all for ...
forever. I smiled like when I tell a good joke, of course I knew what made people
laugh. I took off my high clown’s cap from my head and I bowed with flourish. Laughter
turned into applause. Did I really deserve it? Did I do something important? I
grinned and bowed again. People got up and began to whistle, shout and wave.
I felt better as a child, in my high cap. I understood that. Crowd kept making
the noise.
They want me to stay with them.
I want it too, it’s good in here, better than in reality, than in the real,
distant world.
But I have to go back, I have to live ... Even the sound is familiar,
reminiscent muffled chatter at the break. And rain.
I put a hat on my head and I went back into the chair.
Hunched up, leaned his chin on his hands. I have to go back. I have to learn to
be brave and strong in the real world.
People froze, motionless, and in the silence I heard a frantic pounding of my
own heart. Despite thinking, despite understanding I felt I was doing it in
spite of myself, I should not have done that. One more moment. Last.
I closed my eyes. Coming back is always more difficult, because “coming back”
means “coming home”, and that place is not home. Slowly, I began to hear the sounds
of everyday life again.
School hall swarming with students. I got up from the floor, casually brushed
off clothes and went to class. Everyone already took place, so the twenty-five
pairs of eyes watched my every move. I looked out the window and for a moment in
the rain I saw the face of a little boy. He looked at me and smiled, but drops
of water ran down his small face like tears. Mimicking his movement I quickly
raised my hand to my head and I took off my high clown hat with flourish. I put
it on the table next to a large notebook. Then I opened it slowly and said:
- Take out your pens and write the subject, please.
