The Stack of Hay (Sample Short Story)

The Stack of Hay (Sample Short Story)

RainForest (MS1XXXX)

Number of words used: 1,888

Declaration: I, RainForest hereby declare that the short story submitted by me is an original one and I accept the judges' decision that my entry will be disqualified, if proven otherwise.

This story is dedicated to those who spend their time climbing walls. - RainForest

 The playground at the corner of the village was always full of the laughter of little children, playing 

everyday. Immersed in their own world, they would run and play and scream and shout with delight 

over the littlest things, like who gets to pick the next game. On particularly hot days, the aunties 

living nearby would get some water and biscuits for the little children whenever they fancied a 

break. And among these children was a little girl who (although they all denied it) was almost 

everybody’s favourite. She was the life and soul of the playground! Her laughter was the loudest of 

all and could be heard from a long distance away. The day would just be incomplete without the 

pattering of her bare feet all across the sunny playground.

  The only time the place would seem quiet is at around 4 in the afternoon, the hottest time of day, 

when the sun shone at its brightest. That’s when the kids would all gather on a patch of grass in the 

corner of the playground. This was the children’s special place. They would lean against the cool 

stone wall and enjoy the shade of the mango tree which grew on the other side. Apart from their 

games, the children loved climbing old trees with thick tree trunks, just as much as the village elders 

loved telling them off! They would climb a tree one by one, keeping a constant lookout for that old 

man who always shouted at them. As soon as they’d see him in the distance, yelling indistinctly and 

brandishing his walking stick, they’d abandon their mission, tumbling over eachother in their haste 

to run away. As soon as they were safe from the old man, they’d sink to the ground, giggling 

uncontrollably. 

 Today was a particularly tiring day for the children. They had attempted climbing 3 trees, and had 

finished 4 different games. And helpfully, one of their aunties had got them biscuits today! They lay 

down in their favourite spot by the stone wall and looked up the leaves and the sky that was just 

visible between them. And that was when one of the children spotted a really juicy-looking raw 

mango, far up in the tree. Just looking at it made the children’s mouths water. The little girl was the 

most enchanted by the fruit.  

 “Hey, how do you think we could get that mango?” 

“Maybe I can bring my bed here. Then we could jump on the bed and reach it!” 

“No, we could call all the other kids and stand one on top of the other and reach it!” 

“Or maybe that Scary Uncle’s scary dog could bark at the tree and make the mango fall off?”  

  When they were done making their far-fetched plans, they resumed playing their favourite game – 

but one of them wasn’t really paying attention any more. The little girl’s mind was far from their 

game, somewhere up in the tree with that mango.

  All the children went home that day, merrily setting up a time to meet the next day. Usually, our little girl would be at the centre of the discussion, but she wasn’t tonight. Her mind was dwelling on that mango and the possibility that she could reach it. Just like all the other children, she loved mangoes. And just a few hours ago she was positively delighted at the idea of going to the market and buying mangoes with her saved-up pocket money. But now, she wasn’t into it. She wanted that mysterious – looking mango, hanging so high on that branch. It was round and looked juicy and delicious. It wasn’t fully ripe yet. But she didn’t mind waiting for a few days if she could land with such a beautiful fruit!  

  She met up with the other children as usual, but unlike her usual self, she would be the first one to 

suggest taking a break under the tree and would always be the last one to get up. And while the 

other children chatted or munched on whatever food they got, she would sit cross-legged on the 

grass and stare up at the tree until her eyes found that mango. A few days later, she started coming 

to the playground only to look at the mango. The other children would try pulling her into their 

games, but she’d refuse.  

 “C’mon, why’re you just sitting there? Let’s play tag!” 

“No, I’m tired.” 

“Then let’s play an indoor game!” 

“No I don’t want to! I’m really tired. You all go ahead and play.”

  She was no longer in the mood for games. She was now seriously contemplating actually trying to 

get the mango.  

 The only reason she hadn’t already tried is that it was a near-impossible thing to achieve. The stone 

wall was nearly 7 feet high, almost double her height. Plus, she wasn’t sure she’d reach the mango, 

even if she managed to climb onto the wall. She didn’t even know what was on the other side of the 

wall! What if there was some scary animal?   

  She woke up the next morning with an idea ready-made in her mind. She went to the playground 

early that day. She shifted a huge rock so that it rested against the stone wall. She then dragged a 

rusty old wagon which was in another corner of the playground and balanced it on the rock, upside 

down. Using the grooves on the stone wall, she climbed on to the wagon and was able to see, 

clearly, what was on the other side! 10 feet below was a hard-looking rock bottom. And she could 

see nothing except trees. As always, her gaze shifted upwards to find the mango. Somehow, it was 

the only thing that made her smile these days. Just as she was about to place her elbow on the top 

of the wall and climb up, the wagon she was standing on slipped from the smooth surface of the 

rock on which it was so precariously balanced and the little girl toppled over and fell painfully onto 

the ground. What’s more, her leg hit the rock and she could see a bruise swelling up there. Spitting 

her hair out of her mouth, she slowly got to her feet and tearfully examined the cut on her knee, the 

bruise on her leg and the muddy scratches on her elbow and hands. She walked back home without 

another word, promising herself that she would never turn her eyes towards that mango again. 

  Over the next few days, the little girl realised how much of the world she had missed in her crazed 

and fevered obsession with the mango. While there was a time when she animatedly joined in the 

discussion of what to play next, her friends now played games that she didn’t even know of! It took 

her a few days to get back into her friend circle, and it wasn’t difficult for her – being the sweet and 

bouncy girl that she was. At times, she would glance towards the mango, but the pain from her cuts 

and bruises would bring her sharply back to her real world. She would not go back to get the mango, 

telling herself that when it ripens completely, it will fall off by itself. In any case, it would be an even greater fall on the other side of the wall and she was sure that her parents wouldn’t send her to play 

again if she broke her neck. And that’s when another idea struck her mind.  

  After saying goodbye to her friends, she went straight to the marketplace and used the last of her 

pocket money to buy a stack of hay. All she needed to do, was break her fall with something soft, so 

that she wouldn’t get hurt! The hay would surely do. She couldn’t fool herself thinking that the 

mango will fall off on it’s own once it’s ripe. What if it fell on the other side of the wall? Yes, surely 

that’s what would happen. This time, she assembled the rock along with the wagon much more 

quickly and also kept the hay in place. And if she fell on the other side of the wall? "Well, I just won’t!" she decided. Her eyes had lit up with this bright idea just like the village did during Diwali. Her childish mind would only take her one step ahead at a time. Slowly and carefully she climbed onto the wagon, firmly holding the grooves on the wall with her small fingers. She slipped her uninjured elbow onto the wall and then the other, followed by her leg. And after a few minutes of struggling, there she was, standing on the wall! She looked up and found the mango still hanging there, now completely ripe. But what she had suspected before turned out to be correct. There was no way she could reach the mango on her own, even from here. She’d first need to prise the thin, sharp 

branches apart and then use a sturdy stick to reach the mango. With one frightened look at the deep 

fall on the other side, she sat down and very slowly lowered herself onto the wagon and then 

jumped down onto the hay. Today, she’d been even closer to what she so sorely wanted. 

  She spent the next day looking for the perfect stick. She also spent time playing with her friends and so was extremely tired by the end of the day. For the third time, she began climbing the wall. This 

time, she got up there swiftly as if she’d done it a hundred times before. She started pulling apart 

the sharp little branches that were growing towards her and struggled to hold her stick in place. She 

saw her mango – it was losing it’s golden beauty and had become slightly brown in places. 

Undeterred, she reached out with her stick and skilfully broke the mango away from it’s branch. 

Placing it in her pocket, she hurriedly climbed down from the wall; so happy that she didn’t even 

care about the tiny cuts on her face and hands from the branches! As she jumped on to the hay, the 

mango fell out of her pocket and rolled across the ground. When she picked it up and examined it, 

she realised that it probably wouldn’t be as tasty as she expected. It was over-ripe and rotten in 

places.  

  She went to meet her friends the next day, intending to show them the mango that she finally got, 

after so long! She waited for her friends to arrive at the playground. But when they did, they were 

carrying bags with them. The children had bought the biggest, most beautiful mangoes from the 

marketplace and they settled down on the comfortable pile of hay by the stone wall to eat their 

delicious treat. All the little girl could do, was watch ruefully, toying with the old and rotten mango in her hand.  

  Back at home, she held the mango close and looked at herself in the mirror. Between the old, 

overripe fruit and the cuts and bruises all over her body, she wondered what she had really wanted. 

Then, smiling to herself, she cut the mango up and began to eat it piece by piece. 

Readers to note that "RainForest" is a pen name; the writer is a member of the Collage 2014 organising team and that this article is original.