Worst Day Of My Life

By Shauna

The rain pounds loudly on the window panes as I make my friends tea. Big cups of tea with biscuits. I don’t get cross when Bluey my toy rabbit misbehaves and knocks over my cup. No, not today it’s too special for that. Nothing will cloud today. Finally mother is ready and standing in the doorway, motionless except for her outstretched hand which she offers to me. I pick up Bluey leaving our other friends to their tea. We go down the stairwell from our flat in silence. To pull up my hood I let go of Mothers hand as we stand out into the rain. She waves for a taxi. After many disappointments one finally stops. We huddle inside, dripping wet. In a whisper Mother gives the address and hands the driver the money.

It won’t be long now. I haven’t seen him in years, I shiver with excitement. Though my memories are vague I can still remember him. His laugh, his smell, how he made me feel,  always picking me up, tickling me, spinning me around and around. He will do that again, perhaps tonight. Maybe we’ll have a tea party with Bluey, perhaps he’ll read to me like he used to.

The taxi stops with a jolt. I jump out of the car and feel the small hairs on my neck stand up. But there must be some mistake. I follow Mother into a hospital. My heart races with fear and hurts my tummy. I hide behind mother as she gets directions from a rude lady behind a desk. All the time I squeeze Bluey tightly and wish upon all the stars and fairies that my brother is alright. I start to worry that he might have a stomach ache and ruin all my plans.

As we walk up the stairs I can recall the last time I saw my brother. He told me to “go play” as he talked with mother on his own. I did play. I played spies and listened to them talk. He spoke about “a war” and “a duty”. Then he picked up a bag and left and we haven’t seen him since. We finally arrive at a ward labeled “ICU”. A man with a kind smile walks us to a bed surrounded by a curtain. Without warning he opens it. Being unprepared I gasp. My brother is lying lifeless on the bed.  A sea of wires and tubes come out of  him. I can only stare and squeeze Bluey tight. Mother cries, her right hand on her forehead. The kind man then says we must go. Before I do I make a decision. I know exactly what will make him better, it has always worked for me. I tuck Bluey between his hand and side. As I walk out of the room I can see his fingers find Bluey and squeeze. I’m sure I hear him breath stronger.  My brother will be just fine.

This is a moving, well-written story. The writer describes the scene in the hospital very well.