Deep in the dark forest, light shimmered between the trees. Curiously, she walked towards the glow, only to find a mysterious cottage in the distance. Her head was throbbing. Maybe she could ask the owner of the cottage if she could stay the night and leave first thing in the morning with a map leading her back to town.

At the door, she knocked once, then twice. Footsteps echoed from inside. The windows glowed with a warm golden light as the door opened. A yellow cat wrapped itself around her leg as she locked eyes with an old lady. The smell of herbs drifted into her nostrils. The woman welcomed her inside, offering fresh-baked pastries. Hungrily, she stuffed her mouth with the food as the old lady told her stories about the cottage and the forest. The woman’s name was Agatha; she had grown up in the cottage.

The moonlight streamed through the tall glass windows, touching the girl’s face and cloaking her in a soft, silvery glow that made her skin bright. Agatha, startled by her delicate appearance, closed the curtains and sent the girl to sleep in a bedroom while she stayed back to clean. The girl refused to go to sleep—she wanted to help Agatha tidy the mess she had made. Agatha reluctantly let her help, only to hear a crash from the living room. She rushed toward the sound to find the girl on the floor, with breadcrumbs in her hair and her dress soiled. Agatha chuckled at how clumsy the girl was and helped her up, giving her directions to the bathroom. The little girl sighed as she walked off, leaving Agatha to clean alone.

Agatha shook off her unease and bent to sweep the crumbs, but the faintest whisper caught her ear. She froze. The room was suddenly too quiet, the ticking clock on the mantel louder than before. When she turned, the girl was no longer in the hallway where she had last seen her. The bathroom door stood open, its light flickering faintly. When she stepped inside, Agatha’s jaw dropped—the girl was gone, and the window was wide open.

Shocked by the sudden turn of events, she fainted.

When she awoke, she was lying in her bed. That was not where she had been before. She stood quickly and went to look, only to see the girl standing at the door, ready to leave.

Agatha hurriedly blocked her way and asked where she had gone the night before. The girl calmly replied that she had gone out for “some fresh air” and was “feeling much better.”

Agatha wondered if perhaps she had been overthinking, but the girl interrupted her thoughts, politely asking for directions back to town. Agatha walked to a drawer and rummaged through it, pulling out a map filled with directions. The girl thanked her, took the map, and headed for the door.

Leaving  the house she turned back one last time. Agatha stood in the doorway, waving gently. The girl smiled at her, relieved to know that the rumours in town had been false. She walked away with a lighter heart, comforted by the kindness of a stranger, while Agatha watched fondly, grateful to have been trusted at last.

The breeze brushes against my skin, I could smell fresh baked doughnuts across the street. Birds flying all together in one direction caught my attention like they were trying to flee from something. Suddenly there was a rumble beneath my feet, houses and stores started to shake and fall apart, I looked at my mom, panic struck all over her face. The first thought in my head was to look for my dad and my little sister. Without warning a building collapsed in front of me I was startled without thinking I ran towards a scream of a little girl. Underneath a panel, when I had a closer look it was my sister and my dad. A wave of emotion took over me, horrified I stepped back and tripped over a piece of metal, there was shattered glass on the ground. Everything went black.

A woman appeared in front of me wearing a blue uniform and a mask shouting “she’s awake.”  My mum stumbled into the room with a doctor by her side. They examined me but I was still in shock. I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I looked down, there was a long line of stitching sewn in my skin. “Your father and your little sister couldn’t make it,” my mum said while gripping onto my hand. Warm tears rolled down my face, if only there was another way. 

Seven minutes after midnight, the cold air shivers down my spine. Who would commit such a crime in a brutal way. Wellington, my neighbour’s dog was lying on the ground lifeless, with a pitchfork pierced through his body reaching into the soil making it stand. Thoughts start to pile up in my head, my emotions are mixed. I start to look around observing all the information I can gather for evidence. All of a sudden I heard a scream, I saw Mrs Shears’ horrified face. She yelled at me accusing me of killing her dog.

Several minutes later a police car pulled in. A policeman and a policewoman got out. I was happy, I’ve always fantasised everything about police officers, their uniforms, badges and the weapons they use to take out bad guys. There was a leaf stuck onto the policeman’s shoe and the police woman had a hole in her left stocking revealing an injury on her leg. They walked towards Mrs Shears with a very firm face, they started to ask questions about what happened, the police woman nodded her head while writing on a notepad inspecting and listening to every detail Mrs Shear said. Looking up, the policeman stood right in front of me telling me the charges of a crime I didn’t even commit, I replied back and said “I didn’t do it”  but he claimed I was lying, there was no point in reasoning with him. Stressed out I punched him.

To resolve the matter, I was put in handcuffs and pushed into the back of the car, he reached into the front and spoke to the police woman on the walkie talkie. All I knew was that I was going to the police station. When we arrived, I was searched and all the items that were found on me were taken away. The policeman started explaining the situation to the other officers, my dad was called in, they started to interrogate me, they asked me if I knew what would happen if I was found guilty, they also explained that hitting a police officer was an offence.

Later on my dad appeared, he was raging mad. I could hear him shouting at the officers telling them that I was a special kid. Finally I was being released. An officer asked me a few questions. I answered them not knowing how to explain in a full sentence. It was like the words in my head disappeared, I didn’t really know what I was complying too but my dad told me not to speak anymore. Our fingertips touched; it showed our love for each other.  I don’t like hugs. We left the station and drove off, a sigh of relief came from my dad. He was reassured I wasn’t being charged for anything.

What are my responsibilities as a Global Citizen?

Last term on the 11th of April Rm 8 performed Stations of the Cross in front of the whole school. It took us some time to practise and to memorize our roles but overtime we eventually got better. My role was Veronica, which meant I had to wipe Jesus’ face with a cloth. I was nervous but grateful they had chosen me to be a part of Jesus’ Journey. When the day of the Stations of the Cross came we were all in our costumes, looking like we were from the old times. When it was my turn to play my part I was nervous, but I had to be a role model for the little kids watching. Though we were all nervous we managed to get it done. It is my last year at St Patrick’s and the experience was fun. This is not just a play, it is what Jesus had to go through on His last day for our sins.