www.whyville.net Feb 22, 2009 Weekly Issue



kindell
Times Writer

In Someone Else's Shoes

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The sun beat down on my small head as I raced through the sand towards the water. The sand smacked my legs like hot coals but there was a new arrival. The new arrival at the beach had sparked an interest in our whole city. This was a chance for change that was greatly neeeded and everyone was wondering if this was a friend or a foe. If it was a friend they could help us defeat the neighboring tribes. But an enemy would be easily crushed underneath our warrior's feet. No one was quite sure why we always fought, but one thing was for sure, our fighting has made us masters at the game of warfare.

I finally reached the beach in a flurry of emotions. I scanned the beach looking for my mother. When I reached her, I touched her thigh so that she would know that I was there. I finally reached her hip; it had taken many moons to get there. She looked down soothingly as if to say, "Do not worry," with a smile on her face; I wasn't worried though. Either way our leader would handle the situation accordingly. He would protect the people like he always had, but where were those elusive strangers? Had they come and left like the wind? No, they had not. I surveyed the horizon taking in a small speck in the distance. There they were. These could not be people. Even from a distance, the canoe was too great in size to be carrying people. It must be gods or animals. The white cloth on the canoe was great in size and very impressive. As they drew nearer, I became agitated. I wanted to see what belonged in this massive whale that lay before me. They reached the sand and my anticipation grew. Their tiny canoes, not great in size like the first, began to drift from the larger of the two. But I was more concerned about what lay inside them. Yes, these were in fact animals. They were wearing many hues of cloth all over their bodies and they had feathers placed on their heads, further proving that they were in fact animals. One question still remained unanswered; were they friends or foes.

When they stepped foot on land our leader walked forward and said a common greeting. The animals didn't seem to understand. The more I looked at the crazy creatures, the more my five-year old body quivered. Subconsciously, I had drifted in the sand behind my mother's leg. Was she frightened as well?

A new question had been added to my metal list of queries. Why were these animals here? We had never before gotten visitors from the outside world.

Our leaders tried to talk to the strange animals, but they didn't seem to understand . . . or care. I looked up and my mother seemed to have a confused look on her face. What was ailing her?

As I looked up at her, another story unfolded in front of me. One of the animals drew his large knife from its sheath. And suddenly, everything I had once known was gone in the slash of a sword. My world was over and long gone.

Chillin' to City and Colour,
Kindell

 

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