Winner - Junior section
Clarence High School
Sometimes we don’t realise the little connections we have until we need them most. This story tells the tale of a boy with autism using the connections he has with his community and his family to find his way home.
Toby ran, he ran as fast as he was able. Away from the yelling, the touching and the pain, away from the laughing, the pointing and the games. Toby ran down a street leading him past the red brick houses aligned neatly on the curb. He ran as cars sped past him in a blur of plastic colour. Toby didn’t understand. His breath was fast and heavy, quick gasps of air having little effect. Toby kept running and he didn’t stop soon, the roads simply leading him away from the fear. Slowing to a walk, he could feel the pain closer, confusing like a riddle with no answer. Toby shook his head side to side, physically wanting to be rid of the doubt. As the afternoon became evening the air cooled him to a shiver, Toby wrapped his soft-shell jacket tighter around his lean chest, burying his clenched fists deep in the pockets. ‘Eek,’ he squealed, disturbed by his discomfort. Toby was shaking now, and he was beginning to panic.
Once it had begun there was no stopping it. Darkness was blanketing Toby, pressing hard against his skin, unwelcome, unnerving. Toby’s breaths became harder and harder to distinguish. He was choking himself with distress. Around him the air was calm but inside Toby’s head a violent storm was brewing, wind and sleet thrashing against his skull.
Without warning, and only to save Toby’s life, a noise broke the scene, ‘Creak.’
The swing swung, like a car drives, like a bell rings, only Toby felt the noise as a connection to him. A noise he knew, a noise he understood. Toby ran to the swing, sitting on the black rubber curve of the seat and pushed from the ground. Not a love, not a passion, but an instinct. Toby placed his hands on the metal chains; he could feel them cold in his grasp. The air felt fresher as he gently swung up and down, up and down. Toby breathed in, flooding his lungs with air, pumping the nourishment of relief through his veins. As the swing slowly rocked him Toby felt safe, he saw the pain he was so familiar with and he saw the comfort of his swing. Toby wanted to go home, he wanted to hug his mum, to play chess with his dad. Maybe home was ok.
Toby dismounted the swing and just like the swing he continued to sway, feeling the calmness of his motion. Down the street he walked, only this time Toby was headed in the other direction. A better direction. He wasn’t going back to the yelling, the touching and the pain, or the laughing, the pointing and the games. He was going back home. Further he went, treading cautiously for fear of stirring the creatures lurking in the dark.
Just as the fear was growing again, Toby caught the scent of pine on the breeze. Toby loved pine trees. The fresh earthy smell tingled his nose and helped him to feel the connection between him and the tall radiant trees. Toby knew that the big old pine trees ran along the fence line of his school. He sometimes sat beneath them at break, fiddling with his squishy, allowing their vibrant perfume to smother him with comfort. He was ok those days at break and he was ok now.
Toby walked on, taking a left down a narrow lane. Soon he could feel tiny needles pricking spontaneously at his skin, boldly choosing to scratch him as he walked past. Toby didn’t like it just like he didn’t like it when he walked to the park with Mum and Josh. The bushes were tall and lined the fence all the way to the end of the path with some sections of groping vines jumping out onto the track. Toby knew these bushes, he knew when to duck and when to slide to the left, when to move the vine, and definitely when not to slingshot it back into his mum’s face. The scratches felt funny, they hurt but tonight they brushed him with familiarity, helping him to shun the fear and get home.
Toby exited the trail and followed the concrete footpath down to the service station on the corner of his street. The lights were on, stunning all of the surrounding area with an alien glow. Sometimes on a Saturday afternoon Dad and Toby would walk to the service station to get a milkshake. Toby would always have chocolate, the frothing milk tickling his lips. This Saturday he and Dad would go and get a milkshake. Toby just knew it.
Toby swung the old wooden gate open latching it with a click behind him. He walked down the paved path tangled with weeds and clovers. Toby found a four-leave clover once. The sky was clear, and the stars dotted the sky. Toby and his dad sometimes watched the night through their telescope in the garage. As he reached the door Toby looked down to see his favourite thing of all. The handprint of himself, his mum and his dad cemented in the path. Toby knew it was here he was safe and here he belonged. The memories too strong to run from.
With tears running down her pale face Meghan embraced her son strangling him in her warmth. ‘No cry Mum!’ he said shaking his head in disapproval. ‘No cry.’
Forty South Publishing and the Tasmanian Association for the Teaching of English (TATE) congratulate everyone who entered our short story competition in this challenging coronavirus-affected year. We would also like to recognise the extra work put in by teachers and parents to support these young writers and to maintain the general education of young Tasmanian school students.
The themes this year echoed the world-wide pandemic. For the Juniors (Years 7-9) the themes were ‘Connection’ or ‘Community’ and for the Seniors (Years 10-12) they were ‘Isolation’ or ‘Island’. Students were free to interpret their chosen theme in any way they wanted.
Chris Gallagher judged both sections and was impressed with the overall standard of entries. She could not split her two top stories in the Senior Section and so the senior prize has been shared by Tabitha Glanville (Scotch Oakburn College) and Tara Sharman (Hobart College). In a first for Clarence High School, Oenone Schofield took out the Junior Section with her story, ‘Home’.
