My Critical Essays

Number 487

A/N: Hello everyone! When I wrote this short story, i had just finished reading a story called The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Ursula K. Le Guin (Should read it to understand this story better). I had decided to write a background story on one of the characters mentioned in the short story. So please do enjoy :)

The woman walked around her kitchen, watching her little boy running around the room with his laughter filling the air. She looked at the dinner table, and with a whimsical smile, touched the back of a chair. The once bright atmosphere that encompassed her with a warm glow turned hollow and bitter. The laughter and boy disappeared as though they were just apparitions.

Reality had hit her like a truck; unable to suppress her emotions any longer, she let them out. Hundreds of small tears ran down her cheeks for every day her boy had been gone. She let out wretched sobs, just quiet enough to be muffled by the cages of her house.

"Tavora, darling? Are you in there?" Quiet raps sounded from the door and she quickly wiped her face to rid any evidence of sorrow.

She opened the door slowly and saw one of her neighbours standing on the steps of her front porch. "Hello, Mrs Morris. What can I help with you?" Tavora's voice cracked as she said the last word but quickly tried to hide with a smile, which didn't reach her eyes.

Mrs Morris never seemed to notice as she just continued, "Yes, sorry. Would you be going down to the town square later? The mayor does have an important announcement.

Tavora's breathing stopped. "Sorry Mrs Morris, but I'm feeling quite unwell. I'll have to see how I feel later." She quickly slammed the door in her neighbour's face and keeled over. Bile rose in her throat.

She turned and scanned her house.

What was once a place of wonders and laughter had turned into a place of dreary hopelessness. The walls that shone a bright yellow had morphed into a dreary grey with the most light, banished as it left with her child.

Before she could think any better, Tavora thrust her door open and stepped outside. Loud music played as she stepped out of the house for the first time in months. She took small, slow steps along the walking path and looked up to the sky, clutching herself, as if her life depended on it.

* * *

Tavora looked up towards the sky smiling, holding her sweet little boy lovingly. The colourful sounds of the town surrounded her as she walked along the streets with visions of laughing children playing around and their mothers, strolling behind them admiring their children.

Loud drums intertwined with the sweet sounds from the little boy who played the flute. Tavora couldn't help but smile at the flute-playing boy who was stomping around the streets with his infectious laughter. She felt a tug and glanced down at her 6-year-old son to see him with a playful pout and his arms stretched out.

Carefully, she picked him up and brought him close to her chest, his little arms reaching around her neck to snuggle into her. Tavora smiled and slowly walked to the town square where the draft was being held. The draft that kept the town happy.

More drums filled the streets, horses galloped around with men and women sitting tall and happy, looking over the crowd. Tavora slowly woke up and glanced around the town square and became fascinated by the chaos all around him.

Suddenly, a tall man entered the square and made his way to the podium. "My fellow townspeople. We are gathered here today to continue our great legacy, the legacy of happiness. Let us start!" The crowd cheered, and Tavora, unable to control herself, joined in. The music picked up again as the man reached in for a piece of paper.

"The number is...487!" The world around Tavora slowed, and the once happy and bright music suddenly felt dark and mocking. She looked down at her child and saw him give her a bright smile.

The crowd cheered once more as the man yelled into the microphone, "Number 487, please come up to the podium!"

Tavora was numb, and found herself right next to the man on the podium, with her grip so tight, her knuckles turned white.

"Ahh, there you are! Congratulations! You have continued our legacy!" She couldn't even remember how she got onto the podium. She couldn't remember the walk, anything. Tavora let go of her child and slowly walked away. Dark skies seemed to form only over her as she trudged along the footpaths of the town.

* * *

She trudged along the stone path, headed towards a run-down home; if you could even it call it that. Wherever Tavora went, she could never find that feeling she felt when she still had her little boy. Memories of him invaded her mind every second of the day. It seemed as though she could never let him go. By then, years had gone by since the day she had lost her child.

Tavora wiped the years that escaped and opened the door. Inside, there were three chairs, one bed and a small kitchen. She firmly believed that she didn't deserve any luxurious items while her boy was suffering all alone in that small broom closet.

Void of any emotion, Tavora turned numb; all she did was stare at the wall for hours upon hours, up to the point where sometimes, she thought she could see her little boy. Smiling up at her with the same bright smile and curious eyes he had before he was taken from her.

It took her some time but she found just enough strength and hope to free herself from the oppressed feeling she got when she stayed a the town. She called that, the day she walked away.