I got out of bed and wore my silver knitted sweater with soft embroidery. I slowly walked through the empty halls –towards the dining hall.
There it was the lonely table and it's best dishes. A note next to my plate read...
"Eat well"
"Thanks a bunch" I said with sarcasm in my head. I stabed the lettuce with the fork and cugged in the rice and gravy. It was all tasteless to me, but I'm used to it now.
I've been sick from ever since I can remember– I could taste nothing and felt only shivers of cold– physically and emotionally...
(Flashback: during pre-School classroom one sunny afternoon)
A smart kid with soft grey hair and eyes of the colour of the yellow'd fallen leaves. I sat there scribbling with my yellow and blue crayons, just like the rest of the kids.
When it happened– my hands sweaty, vision blurry and shivers in the mid of a sunny july.
".. Ack.. " I panted
I tried my best to keep my head lifted.
" The teachers there, I've got to give her my best drawing so that my parents can be proud of me" I thought –as I steady my head with the other hand.
It sliped ,with a loud bang sound my head hit the desk and the next thing I knew was I had a terminal illness...
(Flashback end)
I cleaned my mouth with the appron and got up.
"it was delicious" I lied... I couldn't taste anything. I've started to pretend to be getting better, it's only so that they can worry less about me– if they did (worry about me).
I proceeded towards the garden, the Softsunligh surounded and the breeze blew... I shivered a bit .
On to my daily rehab strolls .
"I'll hav to have some stamina to get out of here and see the world at some point... " I said to a butterfly that flew effortless around each flower. I followed it around the garden and sat near a bench.
I closed my eyes and absorbed all that nature had to give– it's wind, the birds chirps, rusting of leaves , sound of the rise and fall of the fountain...
I could feel it... I feel so much peace
–yet I felt something strange. I felt cold air spill out of a rock?...
That's not how breeze works??... I walked over to check– there lay an injured bird... It was in pain, I gently cupped the tiny bird in my hands ,it felt like I picked an ice cube. The cold air lished around and it's feathers were cold...i rushed in to the nearest helper I could find. Sir Iscariot, my personal helper who'd been helping me– stood at a distance from the garden and kept watch on my wellbeing.
"Sir, please help— this bird is going to frreze!"
His face had a split second of confusion at my remark, nonetheless he gently took the bird in his care and added...
"perhaps you meant , I must treat it's wounds, young master? "
"Yes, at once!"
"Very well"
He took out a first aid and treated it's wound. He wrapped a clothe in the end and gently placed it back in the garden...
The bird no longer felt cold to my hand, it had a warmth- not the hars one, but the soft one as that of the eary morning's rays...
"It's warm" I wishpered
Then I felt another warmth–from sir?... "Perhaps, it was my fever that had boggled my senses" I thought...
Sir carried a warm smile and the bird hopped a little– testing it wings and flew away.