"They say that dreams can tell a lot about you. They reflect the subconscious desires and hopes of a person. Well, I dream about being turned into an apple and getting cut up by a horde of angry ballerinas. I may have some problems." With that gloomy thought I let out a sigh and turned around to face the steamed-up car window. A smile slowly crept onto my face. Finally, it was the winter holidays! Two long, blissful weeks of doing absolutely nothing. Who was I kidding? I would probably spend most of my time studying – at least I would do that if I were a systematic and diligent student. Knowing me, I'd leave everything to the last possible second and raise not only my grades, but also the risk of me catching some stress-induced illness. Oh, the joys of the Polish educational system! Now that I was in the eighth grade, I spent most of my nights worrying about the upcoming exams. Oh, it was so easy for others to tell me that all my problems would be solved if only I would study a bit more and systematically revise. I had some problems with grasping that fact. I gradually came to believe that the eighth-grade exams were just a cunning ploy to completely break Polish teenagers – me most of all. Grudgingly, I pushed these happy thoughts aside and focused on the blurred view of the winter countryside and slightly unsettling music I had playing through my headphones.
My parents were sitting at the front of the car, with my dad driving and my mum riding shotgun. They were having a conversation about the upcoming holiday, debating and discussing plans. I smiled. It was nice seeing them getting along. My family is, well, quite unusual. My father is British, and my mother is Polish. I live with my mother in Poland, I go to school there, I have friends there. Come to think about it, I haven't got a single British friend. There is some talk about moving back to England, but I hope it won't come to anything. I'm happy with my life just the way it is. Dad tries to fly over as often as he can, but the pandemic and subsequent closing of the borders caused us to not see each other for over two years. We were making up for lost time now! I was suddenly aware of the car slowing down. I pulled off my headphones and blinked at the unusually bright petrol station we were parked at. Mum turned around and started speaking to me.
- Alex, chodź! Mamy jeszcze kilka godzin jazdy, rozprostuj nogi i pójdź do toalety. Ale załóż kurtkę – spójrz na ten śnieg! Ale będzie pięknie w górach, zupełnie jak za dawnych lat. – She said excitedly. I smiled at her. I knew how important this trip was to her. She used to spend every winter and summer holiday in the Beskidy mountains when she was a little girl. These holidays were going to be a lovely trip down memory lane for her – and a lovely guilt trip for me. I would have to hear about all the wonderful things she did as a little girl and never get to experience them myself. Being born as a Gen Z, most of my life revolved around technology. If my Mum did all the wholesome activities she made out she did, I mostly just kept myself stimulated by doing many different tasks, one after the other. When I have things to do, I don't dwell on the past. I would not remember. I would forget.
I stepped out of the car and made my way towards the dilapidated toilets on the left of the café. Suddenly, I noticed a small bird, hopping towards me. I recognised the species immediately – it was a sparrow. I always had a soft spot for small birds. Its feathers were all ruffled up and its small body was shivering. I knelt down on the snow and brought my hands towards it. To my surprise, it jumped into my palms without a second thought. I gently cupped my hands around it, trying to warm it up. It looked up at me with its trusting, coal black eyes. I smiled. "Maybe I should keep it," I thought. My hands suddenly felt something strange right at the middle of its back. It was a small, metal symbol, strangely embedded in the sparrow's feathers. I squinted at it in confusion. I gently grasped it between my thumb and index finger and pulled it out. The bird cried out. It lay in my hand, its chest quickly rising and falling. Slowly, it calmed down. I looked at the symbol – and froze. It was the very thing I was running away from. The very thing I tried to forget. I was looking at a symbol, but not just any symbol - it was an upside down crucifix. Images flashed before my eyes. A looming figure, descending on me. Suppressing my screams. Pushing me over the railing of a bridge into the icy waters of a river. Falling with me... I came to with a gasp. I was sweating and shaking. Before I had time to think, I threw the symbol as far away from me as possible. It landed with a soft clink. Suddenly the sparrow stiffened. I stopped feeling its shallow breaths. I examined it in a panic. It was dead.
