Drama Collection

Metamorphosis

He was born drowning, flailing in a red, murky abyss. Spluttering and coughing, he was wrenched from the depths and blinded by harsh light. Dark, blurry shadows loomed above him and as red liquid cascaded from his body, a curious affiliation with water cemented in his mind.

After nearly two years, the boy's parents had begun to grow worried that their son had neither spoken nor been able to master the ability to walk. Astonishingly, one week later on the morning of the boy's birthday, they woke to find their two-year-old son running happily around the bed. Not only had he learnt to walk but had also managed to climb out of his cot and navigate his way down the corridor to his parent's bedroom. Still shocked from this starling new revelation, the boy's parents sat down for breakfast at the dining table and were in the process of preparing the morning's coffee when the second surprise of the day took place. Their son, who was sat on the dining room windowsill, watching the children outside splashing around in muddy puddles in raincoats and wellies, opened his mouth and spoke his first words. 'rain'. Not 'mama' or 'dada', words you might expect from a toddler but 'rain'. He smiled widely, his eyes glistening like opals, as he watched the heavy droplets slide and trickle down the glass.

At four, he had his first bike and by five he was able to cycle proficiently. Many a warm Sunday evening the family spent on gentle walks around the small hamlet in which they resided. The boy whizzed ahead on his newly purchased set of wheels, giggling madly and puffing out his cheeks, imitating the revs of a motorbike. His parents were hard done by to keep up, as their overexcited child flew down the country lane in front of them, the wind rippling through his tangled mass of curly blonde hair. He wanted to go faster, till the air screeched in his ears and the trees either side of him grew blurry. He should have known to stop when his father shouted his name but a fierce determination to see himself lift off the ground and soar high and far away compelled him to go on. He flew over the crest of the hill and his father's cries were cut off as a rush of wind flooded the boy's ears.

He landed heavily on the gravel path below and shot forwards down the hill. His eyes watered as the great wall of air whipped up against his face. The bike shook and trembled, throwing the boy around in his seat, as the large wheels of his bike, thundered over the large jagged stones of the dusty path. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling an immense weight lift from his body. He was free. Releasing his hands from the handles, he lifted his arms out wide and let out a loud yell. He was brought back to earth with a searing pain in his left arm. The front wheel of the bike had lost control and twisted round to the left, causing the back wheel to jerk up wildly, bucking the young passenger from his seat. He had sailed through the air still yelling and collided painfully with the gravel path below him. His parents found him a few seconds later, curled up in a ball at the foot of a tree, clutching a deep gash underneath his elbow. His right leg was also bleeding, the large patch of sticky blood, covered in grit and soil. He did not cry or wail but simply sat very motionless, still clutching his arm, staring mistily ahead and trembling.

When he was nine years old he nearly drowned for the second time in his life. One afternoon he and his friends had gone down to the beach with the intention of rock pooling for crabs and jellyfish. However, once they got down there they found something far more interesting. A large hewn of rock sat half submerged in the icy waters, a few yards out. According to one of the boys it was actually a cave, only approachable from underneath, by swimming up into it. The four of them jostled around in the shallows, daring one another to be the first, when without a word the boy dived forwards into the dark waters and disappeared from sight. The other boys waited anxiously for his return, exchanging nervous looks and hushed whispers. Underneath the water the boy kicked his legs out hard, searching through the murky, dark waters for the right way to go. A large black shadow loomed overhead and he surmised that his must be directly underneath the great rock. Feeling his lungs beginning to strain with the effort he forced himself up, in a better attempt to locate the cave entrance. In his eagerness to reach the surface, he had swum too hastily upwards and collided painfully with the sharp underside of the rock. Panicking, he started flailing wildly with his arms and legs, pulling himself desperately along the bottom of the rock. He fought and fought but all he met was more dark rock. The last reserves of oxygen were beginning to drain from his lungs and his chest and temples were starting to ache with a sharp stabbing pain. As he floundered through the water, his hands and body scraping against the jagged rock, the realization that he was going to die flooded his brain. His vision was becoming dark and he could feel his arms and legs begin to slacken. It was at this moment that the hand that had been frantically scouring across the dark rock, slipped upwards out of the water. A few seconds later he burst through a gap in the rock, gasping and choking on the cool cave air. Life had given him a second chance.