THE WAIT
THE WAIT
Silence. Dead silence. Hear the clock ticking. Click clock click clock. So monotonous, so
dull, so heavy. Two strangers sit across the waiting room. Routine visit. An old married
couple. Monthly medicine, weekly injection? None of my business. Probably..
Silence. Dead silence. Hear the clock ticking. Click clock click clock. So monotonous, so
dull, so heavy. Two strangers sit across the waiting room. Routine visit. An old married
couple. Monthly medicine, weekly injection? None of my business. Probably..
What’s the time? Tick tock tick tock. Hurry up! Need to get out of here, need to get out of
here. Sick to the stomach, saliva creeps into my mouth. Must be nervous-or is there another
reason? No,no,no,no,no. The old couple’s eyes are creepy. I bet they’re wondering why I’m
here. Well, it’s none of their damn business, and they can keep their wrinkly eyes off me.
What’s the time? Tick tock tick tock. Hurry up! Need to get out of here, need to get out of
here. Sick to the stomach, saliva creeps into my mouth. Must be nervous-or is there another
reason? No,no,no,no,no. The old couple’s eyes are creepy. I bet they’re wondering why I’m
here. Well, it’s none of their damn business, and they can keep their wrinkly eyes off me.
Damn it! The suspense in here is incredible. Need to go, neeeeed to go.
Damn it! The suspense in here is incredible. Need to go, neeeeed to go.
All around the walls are covered with posters. Cancer, unwanted pregnancy, STD’s,
meningitis. I hate to be reminded of such gross things. Yuck! How depressing. This place
sucks with its plain bogey walls covered with its hideous morbid posters.
This place is damn silent. The only sound is the tick tock of the ugly clock, the tap tap of a
keyboard, and cars speeding past. Oh, to be able to speed away in one of them! A Ferrari
or a pink Cadillac would be good to take me far, far away from my mess of a life, to a
beautiful castle with a handsome prince and my very own gorgeous garden.
All around the walls are covered with posters. Cancer, unwanted pregnancy, STD’s,
meningitis. I hate to be reminded of such gross things. Yuck! How depressing. This place
sucks with its plain bogey walls covered with its hideous morbid posters.
This place is damn silent. The only sound is the tick tock of the ugly clock, the tap tap of a
keyboard, and cars speeding past. Oh, to be able to speed away in one of them! A Ferrari
or a pink Cadillac would be good to take me far, far away from my mess of a life, to a
beautiful castle with a handsome prince and my very own gorgeous garden.
But that is just a fairy tale. Life never happens that way. The sound of the old man clearing
his throat brings me back to this dense place. The tension in here is insane. A lady pushes
a pram past me. Salty tears come to my eyes but, luckily, don’t manage to escape. Fear and
panic replace the unformed tears. Faster and faster my heart beats, like when hearing “on
your marks, get set…” right before a race at primary school. Now it’s beating so fast, I can’t
keep up with it. Focus, need to focus. Dad calls from the sidelines, “You’ll be fine, sweetie.” I
need him here to say that again but that could never happen. He can never know about my
visit. Not ever!
But that is just a fairy tale. Life never happens that way. The sound of the old man clearing
his throat brings me back to this dense place. The tension in here is insane. A lady pushes
a pram past me. Salty tears come to my eyes but, luckily, don’t manage to escape. Fear and
panic replace the unformed tears. Faster and faster my heart beats, like when hearing “on
your marks, get set…” right before a race at primary school. Now it’s beating so fast, I can’t
keep up with it. Focus, need to focus. Dad calls from the sidelines, “You’ll be fine, sweetie.” I
need him here to say that again but that could never happen. He can never know about my
visit. Not ever!
A voice disrupts the thoughts, “Mr and Mrs Foster? The doctor is here to se you.” Thump
thump. Thump thump. That was my heart. The old couple get up and go into the lethal
room.
A voice disrupts the thoughts, “Mr and Mrs Foster? The doctor is here to se you.” Thump
thump. Thump thump. That was my heart. The old couple get up and go into the lethal
room.
Funny how closed doors can hold the story of a life. My head is spinning-the green walls
keep going around and around. Brown chairs, creepy posters popping out, huge pram,
drugged lady, green walls, brown chairs. Over and over again. Then I hear a voice.
Funny how closed doors can hold the story of a life. My head is spinning-the green walls
keep going around and around. Brown chairs, creepy posters popping out, huge pram,
drugged lady, green walls, brown chairs. Over and over again. Then I hear a voice.
“Kirsten Reeves?” I look up.
“Kirsten Reeves?” I look up.
“She’s ready to see you now.”
“She’s ready to see you now.”
Okay, okay deep breaths. I will be all right. I can do this. After all, I did win all my races
didn’t I?
Okay, okay deep breaths. I will be all right. I can do this. After all, I did win all my races
didn’t I?
Only just.
Only just.
Ruby Little, Year 13, Hagley Community College, Christchurch.
Ruby Little, Year 13, Hagley Community College, Christchurch.
‘A summer’s day in Wellington’
(Prose writing by the New Zealand writer, Witi Ihimaera)
‘A summer’s day in Wellington’
(Prose writing by the New Zealand writer, Witi Ihimaera)
The day was white hot. It was a day without wind, holding its breath as if afraid
to inhale that searing heat. Far below the university, a visible haze distorted the
cityscape into the shimmering shapes of glass towers and tall office buildings
being melted together by the sharp soldering point of the sun. From that
shimmering form, like a huge glistening lung curved round the ring of harbour,
pulsated the heat-muted sounds of the city’s labouring breathing. The dip and
roar of endless traffic traversing streets and highways. The jarring clatter of
pneumatic drills and earth-juddering thumping of demolition machinery on sites
where derelict buildings stood like broken teeth. Now and then, the solitary
clanging and rumbling of the cable car winching its way up into Kelburn. And
underlying it all, the soft sighing of a thousand people breathing in and breathing
out, breathing in and breathing out. Above, a huge jet punctured the dazzling
skin of sky. Beyond, tugs tracked across the silver harbour.
The day was white hot. It was a day without wind, holding its breath as if afraid
to inhale that searing heat. Far below the university, a visible haze distorted the
cityscape into the shimmering shapes of glass towers and tall office buildings
being melted together by the sharp soldering point of the sun. From that
shimmering form, like a huge glistening lung curved round the ring of harbour,
pulsated the heat-muted sounds of the city’s labouring breathing. The dip and
roar of endless traffic traversing streets and highways. The jarring clatter of
pneumatic drills and earth-juddering thumping of demolition machinery on sites
where derelict buildings stood like broken teeth. Now and then, the solitary
clanging and rumbling of the cable car winching its way up into Kelburn. And
underlying it all, the soft sighing of a thousand people breathing in and breathing
out, breathing in and breathing out. Above, a huge jet punctured the dazzling
skin of sky. Beyond, tugs tracked across the silver harbour.
A crowd was milling again at the intersection, waiting for the signal to cross.
Breathing in and breathing out. Waiting. The signal to cross buzzed and the
crown surged across the intersection in an unthinking response, triggered to
shove and push through to the other side before the buzzing stopped. We
threaded across with them, among the drawn and listless faces of people pale
with the heat. The sun slashed into Sturdee Street, and, for a short while, there
was respite from the sounds of the central city. But as we approached the Cuba
Mall the jangling fanfare of noise trumpeted again.
A crowd was milling again at the intersection, waiting for the signal to cross.
Breathing in and breathing out. Waiting. The signal to cross buzzed and the
crown surged across the intersection in an unthinking response, triggered to
shove and push through to the other side before the buzzing stopped. We
threaded across with them, among the drawn and listless faces of people pale
with the heat. The sun slashed into Sturdee Street, and, for a short while, there
was respite from the sounds of the central city. But as we approached the Cuba
Mall the jangling fanfare of noise trumpeted again.
Traffic varoomed past: cars, lorries, a silvered motorbike with its visored
attendant like a metallic mantis. Two girls walked the hot pavement, splitting
the air with their laughter. A red-crossed ambulance sirened down the street, its
red light flashing semaphores of urgency. Far away, the tinkling carillon* of the
Dominion Museum snatched briefly at each quick, momentary silence.
Traffic varoomed past: cars, lorries, a silvered motorbike with its visored
attendant like a metallic mantis. Two girls walked the hot pavement, splitting
the air with their laughter. A red-crossed ambulance sirened down the street, its
red light flashing semaphores of urgency. Far away, the tinkling carillon* of the
Dominion Museum snatched briefly at each quick, momentary silence.
From ‘Cousins’, in ‘The New Net Goes Fishing’ by Witi Ihimaera, reproduced
by courtesy of Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd.
From ‘Cousins’, in ‘The New Net Goes Fishing’ by Witi Ihimaera, reproduced
by courtesy of Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd.