Neverending one

by Olha Savchuk

It was an unbearably windy and rainy night. No, even early morning, since the nearest city hall campanile struck  midnight some time ago.
Bursting through thick aged prickly bushes the dark shadow was moving incredibly fast. If just for one moment it was possible to observe him fully, one would notice how quick was his heel to leave the ground, make an enormously huge half-circle crashing the thicket, and then shortly touch the ground one more time... On and on... One, two, one, two, one... Scalding air in his throat. Cold shower hitting his face, pouring into his mouth. All over his hair. Wet-wet-wet! Thorns into his skin. Pulse in the forehead. One, two, one, two... Blood on the hand. Water washes it away. Good. No big harm. Good. Water – good. One, two, one... Just not my eye. Not the eye! One, two... I'm burning. My muscles are warm. I'll be fine. One... Just one more bush.
No, not this one. Of course, just a dream. Was it even mine?...
My favorite season is autumn. I like walking in the park with my mother. The green leaves are waving to me when I go to school. While the yellow and orange ones are already lying and waiting for me to play with them during break. Another reason why I enjoy this season the most is meeting my schoolmates after long summer vacations. Some went to their grandparents to the countryside, others were at the children camps or at the seaside. The first day of September is the happiest one – everyone wears his Sunday best, new notebooks and pens are still clean and shining, the classroom is filled with the flowery smells, no homework and short lessons.
Was it the first ever? Or just the one my weak memory marked with digit '1'?
Well, let's think logically. If I was waiting for schoolmates to meet again, then I would have already been to the first grade at least! Which also means some short literary pieces were done before. To be honest, I did forget about kindergarten. Yes, indeed! We were supposed to write something... Another question is would it be a story in the full sense. Was it some kind of short narration? Was there any logic and connection between sentences? Actually, to follow this line of thinking, one should ask what the full sense of a story is...
Sounds like an easy, introductory topic to start a year with 'My first story was about...'. While setting my thoughts for a good story, I found myself screening and scrolling all over the web, up and down. Webster, philosophical articles on Google Scholar and even online art-and-culture blogs. But the digging into e-wonders didn't really help my poor head. After dumping my brain, I forced myself to end on the User Story - a method of illustrating software requirements!
At the end of the day, the most suitable specification for me would be a life story each of us keeps on writing and editing on and on, day by day!