Abingdonian 2020

56 The Abingdonian ‘Covid Chronicles’: Prizewinners Lower School - ‘Remember to get the shopping’ “Remember to get the shopping ” Every Monday, she’d tell me that And I would drag myself to Londis to do so Mum had cystic fibrosis, which meant that her life had already been cut short, cruelly When the government announced the shielding measures, I felt more of a sense of anxiety than protection She was usually such a social person, meeting friends daily Most of the time she would chat like an endless spinning top I hated it But I couldn’t watch her suffer on her own. What would I do without her? Back at school, bullies would dump me to the ground, treating me as a plaything, their slanders threatening to demoralise me for life But Mum would restore that courage inside me She always cared for me, making breakfast, teaching me things that I didn’t have the courage to learn at school, and looking out for me But now what? When the ambulance arrived today to whisk her away for treatment, I asked myself: what reason do I have to carry on? If my reason for living had contracted a virus that would most likely kill her, then I had no means of surviving I had no friends I didn’t even have a father She was all I had And now she would be a statistic in the government graphs and to the millions of people who didn’t know her, would never know her. But she was much more than a statistic She was a true human being: kind, generous, caring, defying all haters, the latter being something I hadn’t the courage to do I couldn’t live I would die a merciless, innocent death. Why shouldn’t I take the opportunity to join my sick, tired, tranquil mother in heaven? I didn’t even have hope that she might survive; her cystic fibrosis would make an alliance with the coronavirus and end her life Nobody would convince me to change my mind about dying ...Except for myself. After all, she did always tell me that I could prove all of the doubters wrong And I can And I will Without my life support She’s gone But I’m not Pranit Narain, 2HFCP Middle School - ‘The Square’ The street is quiet now. The overcast sky has a slightly pink hue as I trudge down the silent road A plastic bag ripples in the wind, breaking the melancholy silence as my feet trudge along the loose gravel I notice the gaunt, harrowed faces of families, shielding their children from sight as I cross the road. Nobody can talk anymore, there is just a silent nod of acknowledgement and understanding In the distance, the sound of a shrill siren of an ambulance penetrates the eerie silence, before fading slowly The wind however is continuous, persistent, rippling through my hair and my clothes, as I pull my thin fleece more tightly around my shivering body Mounting the pavement across the road, I hear faint whispers and hushed voices echoing from within the houses, stretching for what seems like miles down the road. I strain to make out any of the voices, any of the words, just to remind myself of accents, inflections or tones of voice other than my own I have grown used to the sulphuric smell in the air by now, as has everyone It doesn’t sting as much as it used to, but I can still feel a slight pang whenever I inhale the toxic fumes. I continue to walk in a dreamlike state, stumbling along the path They say the government is going to distribute more food parcels today, but, as they’ve said that for the past week at least, I’m beginning to lose hope, already falling into a spiral of despair I cross the road again. I’ve lost track of the months, but the leaves no longer adorn the trees, indicating that summer has passed and we are in the gloomy clutches of late autumn I attempt to increase my pace when a spasm of pain shoots up my leg; I inhale suddenly, the sulphur enveloping my lungs and slowing my walk. I begin to notice more and more people leaving their houses, kissing their loved ones goodbye, perhaps for a couple of hours, perhaps longer There are no words exchanged, just pained murmurs as the wind picks up, blowing dust and ash up into faces from the ground, leaving clothes and bodies blackened and eyes stinging I hear the lulling drone