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Forty – one | Story Entry Young Authors Scheme Creative Writing Competition Branch Level 2020


I woke up and looked around. My bedroom was different. My toy houses were gone. The toy cats that had inhabited one of them were lined up on the window seat, which now had a cushion. My other toys were there, too. I walked over and looked at the alpacas. Something appeared strange about them. One of them was bright blue. Another was small and striped. I counted all of them. Eight. I looked at one of those I had not previously owned. It had a World Scholars cup badge. I turned it over. Written on the other side in an unfamiliar handwriting, was an inscription: Best Mom Ever. Thanks for helping me. I wondered where it had came from. I certainly had not won an alpaca for my mom. I was still not in seventh grade. And if it was for my mom, why was it in my room? I walked over to my old dolls. I pressed the foot of one Baby Aliue. It didn’t work. I opened the door to my room and walked out. I stopped. I had never had a door to my room before. I went into my parents room. No one was there.

There was something strange about this room. I sat down on a bed only to find it wasn’t a bed. It was the sofa from our living room.

Our entire kitchen was there, too. But something was different. We had an induction cooker instead of a stove. I stood up and walked out the doorway. Something caught my eye, but I couldn’t see anything clearly. Without thinking, I took something from the neckline of my duster and put them on my head. Suddenly I could see clearly. Glasses. Since when did I need glasses? I turned my attention to the thing I had seen in the doorway, which turned out to be a pencil mark. It was part of my height chart. The line marked my mom’s height, my goal. I put my hand over my head and slid it towards the doorway. It matched the mark exactly. Had I gone through a growth spurt overnight? I didn’t have time to think about it, because suddenly, a wailing came from the boys room. I ran quickly, expecting to see one Sage, my youngest brother. But instead, lying on the lower bunk, among Sage’s old toys, and some of my own, was a baby girl.

I carefully picked up the screaming child, wondering where she had come from. My eyes wandered to a picture frame bearing a photograph of the girl with the inscription, Maria Regina T. Cruz, baptised 2048. Parents: Maria Francesca Falgui and Jose Francis Cruz, Godparents: Jose Leandro Falgui. I ran back to my room, holding “Maria Regina”. I looked in the mirror. I gasped. I looked almost as old as my mother. My face was mostly the same, and so was my hair, but I was taller, wearing my grandmother’s duster and, of course, glasses. And my breasts were definitely bigger. I remembered the baby. Of course, I had to feed her! I sat down on the bed and started breastfeeding her. Then I realized that my mom was right about breastfeeding babies: they really did bite. I thought about this: if she had been baptized at 2048, and this year was, what year was it? I really didn’t know. I opened the desk drawer and found a calendar for 2050. 2048 and 2049 were in the trash. So if this was 2050, the Maria Regina should be two years old by now. Old enough to start eating normal food. I carried her to the kitchen and made oatmeal. She seemed to like it. I was resting when someone called my cellphone. Of course I had a cellphone, I was an adult now. “Hello”, I said. “Hi Ches, it’s me Cubby,” my brother answered, “You mind if I watch Regina, I know you have to write that book so…”. Yes! Thanks. Where are you? “Just upstairs.” I began to write the book. –Maria Francesca Sophia R. Falgui

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