Hide and Seek
Adam Smith, 13
I laughed as I charged along the tree-lined sunlit path with my friends in tow. I slipped, and we all giggled as I dusted myself off, not in a toxic or harmful way but in the playful way that all children have before they hit adolescence. Then one of my friends suggested we play hide and seek, and then I agreed to be the seeker, the role that all children abhor. I counted to twenty and put myself into the childish mindset that I was hunting for fugitives. I heard a giggle and brushed away the bushes and managed to sting myself on some nettles. There I found a giggling child; the first fugitive had been caught. I then delved deeper into the forest, and a very conspicuous trap was laid out, a string, tied between two trees. I knew that someone was nearby and heard a rustle. I expected to find a small child hiding, but instead found an injured kitten. I shouted out to my friends, who all came out of their ingenious hiding spots, found by mastering the game over many years. They all peered at the kitten, and the fast runner of us, charged towards our parents sitting in the shade. They rushed over and applied the bandages they had stored up to the kitten.
We pleaded and pleaded, but none of the parents let us keep the sweet animal in our grasps. As we all went home in our minibus, our parents asked the driver to stop off at the vet, and we all got off, and explained the situation to him. He swiftly nodded and took the animal away. We, as young children all started bawling, but quickly we got over it, considering we had the minute attention span of small children, and began playing tag among our houses for hours, crushing the parents’ hopes of having clean white clothes without the need of a wash. I then woke up, realizing it was not 2012 but 2020, in the middle of a lockdown, and quickly got dressed for another day of online school. I wished for the days of childhood back.