by Julie Lewis
2004 Sense of Mischief winner
Over 40 age group
On the last night of his holidays, Ryan was allowed to fly his kite for the last time before bedtime.
"Half an hour!" his Mum said, so he ran to his favourite place on the long grassy hill as fast as he could.
He laid the kite down on the bank with its long tasselly tail stretched out behind. Then, just as his Dad had shown him, he backed away one, two, three steps, slowly unreeling the string until with a gust of wind, the yellow dragon rose tentatively into the air. Then tug after tug, it rose higher and higher against the sunset. The kite string that had been thick woven white at the beginning of the holiday had become grey and grimy and slipped through his fingers like silk with every pull of the wind.
He wished he could stay for ever in this magic place. He wanted to take it all home in a box; the tinky tonky music of the funfair, the taste of his candy floss melting and sizzling on his tongue, the smell of the grass when he rolled down the bank, the orange daisy pattern on the dress of the girl who played on the beach; he wanted to take it all home to keep for ever.
The yellow dragon was fluttering against the sun, like a moth attracted to a light bulb, drifting away, then returning to hover. Ryan screwed up his face, his eyes struggling to watch in the sunlight, losing sight in the long shadows.
Then without warning, in a sudden gust, the string slipped from his fingers and followed the kite higher and higher into the air. He tried to grasp it, running and jumping and stretching in vain. The yellow dragon with its tasselly tail streaming out behind was escaping further and further away. He ran and jumped and stretched again gasping in horror, but the wind took his breath away until all he could do was stand and watch as the dragon became a tiny black dot in the purple clouds. He turned for home. The sobs that had been threatening all evening exploded into a wail of despair that echoed again and again around the empty field, filling his magic place with the knowledge that his holiday dreams would be haunted for ever by the sight of his dragon kite disappearing into the sunset.
In the morning, his Mum's coffee cup on the bedside table reminded him. She had sat on his bed.
"We'll get you another kite," she'd said, patting his back every now and then and stroking the hair off his face. "We'll get you another one as soon as we get back." When the sobbing stopped and she thought he was asleep, he'd watched as she tiptoed out of the room.
He thought about his kite high in the sky, escaping, but he knew it wasn't just the kite. Today was a sad day. Last night just made it sadder. He closed his eyes and buried his head into the pillow not wanting to look at the packed suitcase lying open in the corner just waiting for his pyjamas to be folded neatly on top. He wondered how he could make the holiday last a bit longer. Perhaps if he pretended he had a sore head or a bad stomach, they would wait until the afternoon. Perhaps if they thought he needed some fresh air, there would be time for a run on the beach or one last roll down the grassy bank. But he could already hear his Dad downstairs, whistling up and down the passage as he loaded the car and his Mum shouting instructions: "Don't forget the buckets and spades... and the shells!". Five more minutes, Ryan thought, in my holiday bed.
He opened his eyes when he heard a voice he didn't recognise.
"It was such a lovely evening," the lady was saying, "we went for a walk along the cliff It was Rachel who spotted it! She recognised it straight away."
He slipped out of bed and crept across the landing to peer through the banisters. She was standing in the doorway. He could see her flip flops and her red trousers and the plastic bag she was carrying, and behind her the flutter of the orange daisy dress of the girl on the beach. His Mum shouted up, "Ryan!"
He scurried back into his bedroom, not wanting to be caught listening, but his Mum was already on the stairs.
"Ryan! Rachel's here. She's found your kite!"
When he opened the plastic bag he could hardly believe his eyes. There it was, his yellow dragon kite, a bit wet, a bit crumpled, its tasselly tail a bit twisted, but all there. Its black eyes were bigger than he'd remembered them. It seemed to be smiling at him, pleased to be back. His Mum was fussing.
"What do you say to Rachel?"
"Thank you very much!"
He felt silly standing there in his pyjamas, while his Mum told Rachel's Mum how upset he'd been the night before, how he'd run home in despair and cried himself to sleep. He wished she wouldn't keep on about it. He wished he'd got dressed and put his baseball cap on. But Rachel didn't seem to mind. She stood there in her orange daisy dress, hands on hips, beaming, triumphant.
"We're going back today." said Ryan.
"I know" she said "That's why we came early."
His Mum poured out two drinks. They sat and looked at each other across the kitchen table while they drank through straws.
"Wow!" said Ryan "Pepsi for breakfast!"
Rachel said "It must be a special day!"
Out in the garden they tried to fly the kite but there was no wind and it wouldn't take off. Ryan said he would try again when he got home. They sat on the grass and he folded up the tasselly tail while Rachel rolled up the string.
"We're coming back next summer." he said "Will you be here?"
"I'll be here." she said "I live here."
It didn't seem to matter that the kite wouldn't fly. Instead, he showed her where he had made a den out of leaves and bits of wood, and she said she thought it would be a good place for a picnic. Then he showed her his collection of shells and said she could have some if she wanted, but Rachel said it was alright, she already had plenty.
Their Mums were waiting for them. His Mum said he had to come in because he only had his pyjamas on, and Rachel's Mum said they had to go shopping.
He felt shy when they stood at the front door to say goodbye. Rachel was holding her Mum's hand and saying "Thank you for the drink."
He wished she could stay longer. He wished they could stay longer, another day, another week. He watched her orange daisy dress bobbing up the path.
At the gate she turned and waved. "See you next year!" she shouted.
And Ryan, suddenly happy, shouted back "Yes! See you next year!"
He ran upstairs, clutching the yellow dragon kite to his chest, across to his bedroom window where he watched until she disappeared out of sight.
Read the other winning stories:
| Trollett Towers | Callum Murdo MacDonald and the Pinkish Blotch | Mel |
The Magic Place is © Julie Lewis 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Julie Lewis, who asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of this work.