2004 School Magazine

Creations:Original Works

145

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Francesca Hiew 12M

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The Swa. rv",

>.- From my window I watch them swarm Nameless, foceless, they scurry down street and sidewalk in a writhing sea of grey nothingness. When I was a child my grandmother used to tell me stories about them. She would take me by the hand and together we would wander through the trees, never taking the same path, to the bottom of the garden. There were never fairies living at the bottom of my grandmothers garden. but ere were old friends. amongst brother gum and sister fern my grandmother would weave truth and tale into a colourful quilt of teaching Entranced, I would learn about the sun and the sky the stars and the earth, the animals, the ancestors But there was one story I would always ask for. Filled with terror and innocence, I would listen, unmoving. as my grandmothers slow, melodious voice painted piaures of a monster unimaginable The swarm was cold, grey, dead. Uke an army of ants it marched, never ceasing,

yet there was nothing natural about it

expectant. "Some people call me wise. Bah!" Her eyes twinkled. "I am not wise; I listen to the trees and they tell me what I know. " "But grandmother I can't hear anything Why won't they talk to me7"

"Don't let the swarm make you forget who you are, David, " my grandmother would say, eyes earnest I would shake my head. "No. grandmother" pledging to myself a silent vow that I would stay strong, that I would never give into them There came a time when I stopped visiting my grandmother Her stories no longer entranced me. I thought them nothing bur nonsense from a lonely old woman, eager to please. I forgot about the swarm and I forgot about my vow Gazing our through my barrier of glass at giants of stone and steel, black gaping eyes staring vacantly. I remember one of my grandmothers stories

They will always talk, if you know how to listen. "

it occurred to me that all the noise of the city, the blaring horns and shouting voices and roaring engines, told nothing, taught nothing, but silence I longed to run, run until my feet no longer pounded cement but. instead, earth. rich red earth. run until I could hear the trees

once more

instead, I picked up my grey coat. and took my place in line

^riKa. Lei+ok 11R

"Let me tellyou a secret, David, " she would say, and I would eagerly snuggle closer