The forces of nature are always stronger, mysterious and ever so enchanting. The forest is an escape for one such girl, Lorna. When everything comes her way, the forest is there to protect her. One day after an unfortunate event, Lorna's trust in th...
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The sun had come out for the new day. Its weak yellow rays illuminated everything. It was Friday. A day all looked forward to. This morning, found Martin yet again walking on the pavement to the orphanage. He had his red blazer on top of his white school shirt and along with his grey woepsy pants.
Yesterday was a day he too couldn't bring himself around. He was almost even close to not believing he had done all that. When he had woken earlier this morning, he came across burned paper and an order around the kitchen. He knew what he'd done, and that would definitely explain his tiredness today. His eyes were struggling to keep open but luckily he had drank an energy drink.
But there was still the problem. He couldn't believe he did that. Why did he do that? After exposing himself to the lung burning creation of his bullies, he had been transported to a different planet. One unlike the earth. After that, all was a blur.
Putting what had happened aside, Martin still couldn't wrap his head around the craziness of yesterday. Besides causing him to feel like a drunk man devoured by headaches and all that, it had caused him to replace his bullies package with a make shift condition. It being just a random collection of dry grass he picked out from the garden with a few thin sticks all pit on the cloth and wrapped. He hoped that would work.
Part of him felt good. He felt the satisfying feeling of avengement. His fellow brother was no more. He couldn't allow a spoilt brat from the gutters play on someone's grave like that. It was the most inhumane thing that he'd ever seen a person ever do.
Martin continued waking, jumping a few robots there and there, the orphanage getting closer from the corner of his eye. The streets were not quite busy in the morning, he'd see men with brief cases rushing about and women with their handbags indulging in an early morning favourite treat, vetkoeks and hot tea as they made their way to work.
He'd thought about buying a few of the vetkoeks from the lady a few jumps ago, but when he thought about checking his pocket, he remembered that he never brought money with him to school. He would've bought a few for his fellow brothers and sisters. He could reminisce a tine when Mrs Smith had been busy the whole day, mixing dough and all that. Then she'd put it in the sun for the dough to rise. Then after that she'd shape the doughs into balls. Finishing off she'd drop it in a pot of hot oil. Bubblins sounds of the oil would make their stomachs grow. For they knew what was that that made those noises. It was what they liked, he, Lorna and all of them. Their favourite treat. An oily creation called vetkoeks. Those were there times.
Martin would solemnly wish. Maybe one day, Mrs Smith would do that. She'd make that oily creation that they always liked. He, Lorna, Stanley and all the others would have stomachs bubbling with immediate hunger. Then, after waiting, they'd indulge on that creation. Their lips smudging with oil. That was it, that was the feeling. The feeling of licking those fingers to remove the oil. The feeling that only existed due to the fact he was enjoying it with his fellow brothers and sisters. That feeling, that feeling only gotten from family.
