A Wondrous Walk

A Wondrous Walk - Sophie Simonian (River Dell High School, Ninth Grade)

Sunday Morning, 2 AM. 

The rain has just stopped drizzling in London, I can’t fall asleep, and my head hurts, but it’s the perfect weather for a walk. 

I step out of my apartment, and the wet ground glows with my reflection as I walk. I trail for about 30 minutes without noticing, but the moment I catch a glance of it in the water beneath my feet, the world starts to feel unreal. 

I stammer over my own breath as I slowly look up and watch the entire sky light up into a million fragmented colors. It’s no Aurora Borealis. But it’s hard to take my eyes off. I hear something in the distance behind me, I turn around, and it’s an old woman. I stare at her in alarm, and I ask her, “Can’t you see it?” And I kid you not, my words echo like a wave as I speak them. 

She raises her eyebrows, “See what, dear?” Her words echo too. I turn my head and point my finger up at the sky. “That.” When I twist to look at her, she’s gone. I’m in utter confusion. Still, I let it go, and gaze back up at the sky, as it continues to bloom with color. 

It’s completely quiet in the street, and now I’m all alone. I think it’s time to go back home. But just as I take a few steps in the opposite direction, I realize I’m lost. And then I hear it. Someone singing. My head is now beating with a migraine, as I slow my steps down with complete uncertainty and lack of direction. And then I realize, it’s the sky. Still, I wonder. Is it maybe, just my imagination? Or is it the world’s greatest optical illusion? 

Light–headed, and drowsy, I feel the magic slowly awaken inside me, as I accept the fact that this is actually happening. The sky, still gleaming with hue, continues to melodize. I can’t tell what song it is, but it sounds oddly familiar and makes me feel comforted. In awe, I watch the thin streets of London radiate and light up, as the lamp posts somehow grow brighter, guiding me in the direction that leads me exactly where I need to go. 

I run up to my loft and flop onto my creaky daybed, where I almost immediately fall into a deep sleep. When I tell this story to anyone who hears it, they don’t believe me. After all, it’s hard to seek the magic in you when it’s been gone for such a long time.