We are sharing the next story in our series, Featured Short Stories, written by students in the Creative Writing Club.
Every week, the students in the club work on writing short stories, sometimes from their own ideas, and sometimes from story prompts. This assignment was to practice writing a story that included flashbacks and the young author included a flashforward too 🙂 !
This week’s story was written by Samar, aged 11. Enjoy!
The Superpower
As the summer holidays were about to end, my friends and I were excited to start the same secondary school the following week. I invited Harry, Larry and Garry over. They’re identical triplets who live across the street.
Since the weather was nice, we played outside on my driveway. We share it with three other houses, but our part is big enough to park five cars. It stretches about 30 metres from our double garage to the one at the other end. Messy bushes block the road, so it’s safe for running around. At this time of year, the bushes are full of juicy blackberries that are sweet, a bit sour, and leave a taste in your mouth for ages.
We decided to have a long jump competition. My parents could keep an eye on us using the security cameras on the garage and the Ring doorbell, just in case we were up to mischief.
We agreed that the winner would get a free ice cream when the van came at 4:30pm, like it always does in summer.
Harry was the tallest triplet at 5’3” and slim. He had ginger buzz-cut hair and a thin line through his left eyebrow. Larry was two inches shorter, also slim, with ginger hair neatly parted to the side. He wore round black Harry Potter-style glasses. Garry, although identical, was the shortest at 4’5” and a bit plump with squirrel teeth. They all had peachy skin and bright green eyes, and usually dressed the same.
“I’ll go first since I’m the tallest,” Harry said.
“We need rules first,” I replied.
Garry drew a line with chalk. “This is the starting line. We’ll mark where each person’s toe lands.”
“I’ll judge,” Larry said. “But when it’s my turn, Samar will judge.”
“Can we start now?” Harry asked impatiently.
“Yes, Harry,” we said together.
Harry stepped up confidently. “Be ready to buy me an ice cream!”
He jumped and landed 1.37 metres from the line.
We lined up behind him, like aeroplanes queuing up in the sky to land, eager for our turn.
Larry stepped up next. He bent his knees, swung his arms back, and jumped. He landed 17 centimetres behind Harry’s mark.
“Yes! I’m getting that ice cream!” Harry shouted.
Garry ignored him and took his turn. He didn’t jump as high, but he jumped further. His big toe landed just past Harry’s marker.
“No, no, no!” Harry yelled. “You cheated! I want a re-match!”
Larry tried to calm him down while I got ready. I couldn’t remember ever doing a long jump before, but I was excited.
I bent my knees and leapt. As I jumped, everything changed.
I was four years old again, inside my uncle Vishal’s enormous manor house, flying near the high ceiling and dodging the massive chandelier hanging above the walnut coffee table. On the table sat a three-tier Victorian stand stacked with mini sandwiches, scones, sausages and fruit. Four porcelain teacups and a matching teapot gleamed in the light.
The living room was twice the size of a badminton court. Red velvet carpet covered the floor. Four velvet chaise lounges, two mint green and two deep blue surrounded the table. Gold-framed portraits of ancestors and famous composers like Mozart stared down from the walls. Five short pillars held antique porcelain vases bought at auction.
Below me, my mum, dad, uncle and aunt ran around trying to grab me like someone trying to pluck an apple from a high branch.
“Mummy, look! I’m flying!” I shouted.
My mum, in a yellow flowered dress with sunglasses perched on her ponytail, looked like she might faint. My dad, slightly taller, with his black-and-grey beard and Boss glasses, jumped as high as he could to reach me.
Uncle Vishal rushed in carrying a silver step ladder. “Use this, brother!” he shouted. “We’ll lure him down!”
Aunt Sonia picked up my favourite ham sandwich. “You’ll need energy to fly,” she said sweetly.
Slowly, I drifted lower and my dad grabbed my ankles.
Suddenly, I was back on the driveway.
Garry was holding my ankle the same way my dad had.
Larry stood frozen, pointing at me with his mouth open.
Harry fired questions like a machine gun. “What did you just do? How did you do that? Can you teach me? Are you a superhero?”
Larry clamped a hand over his mouth. “Can Garry let go now?”
“Yes,” I said calmly. “I think it’s safe.”
“In the longest way possible,” Garry said nervously, “explain how you did that.”
I told them everything I had just recalled.
“I don’t know anything else,” I finished. “I’ll have to ask my parents.”
TINKLE – TINKLE!
The ice cream van arrived.
We all bought one and somehow forgot about what had happened.
Twenty years later, we were back at Uncle Vishal’s house. He now had grey hair and was clean-shaven. Aunt Sonia looked mostly the same, just with wrinkles and glasses.
We sat on the large L-shaped leather sofa, drinking afternoon tea. The same old coffee table stood in front of us, now on a bearskin rug. The Victorian stand was stacked with sandwiches, scones and fruit. Six teacups rested neatly beside a matching teapot.
The wall where the portraits once hung now held an 80-inch TV. The red carpet was gone, replaced by oak flooring. The pillars and vases had disappeared. A log fire crackled warmly.
Suddenly my wife Holly screamed, “Dylan!”
My four-year-old son was jumping in the middle of the room.
Then he started to rise into the air.
“Mummy, mummy, look! I’m flying!”
The End
If you have a child who loves writing stories and essays, and you want to encourage them to explore their creativity and their imagination, then we would love to have them join our writing club! Just click on the link to register, and we will be in touch. Creative Writing Club – Registration Form.