The Desk

by Sayla Ware

There is a house on a street, its name is not important. Inside the house is a room, its whereabouts doesn’t matter. However, in this room, there is a desk. The desk stands tall by the window, its aged wooden surface is stained with ink. On the sides of the desk are patterns, carved lovingly by hand. The patterns are far-off places, no one has visited, and no one will. On the desk lies paper with words swooping and diving, flicking, and twisting about the page. By the paper lies a jar, pencils askew with stories inside them. The window shines light on the desk, the brightness filling the room. There is a vase on the desk, old and dark blue, filled daily with flowers that spill over the edge, a lifelong ritual of hers. On the desk, there is a folder full of pictures and words never seen. Beside the desk, there’s a basket full of crumpled paper, words and stories that were rejected. The desk’s dark surface holds many special things, a box with a lock holding secrets inside. A little glass tortoise holding words to the paper and paper to the words. A pen with a plume writes words for the little glass tortoise to hold. Additionally, a tiny gold key that opens who-knows-what, too small to fit in the boxes lock, too small to fit in the doors.

By the desk there’s a shelf full of books with leather covers cracked down the spine, written with love by hands now withered. The shelf is wooden with carved daisies down the side, they link in a chain, and on and on the chain goes whilst the books fill their shelves, the daisies never let go. On the shelf full of books there are precious things too, pictures full of love showing picnics and days at the beach, and to the right of the pictures sits a pen full of rainbows creating colour for all to see. On top of that bookshelf, a globe stands tall, full of adventures that have been and gone. In front of the desk sits a chair, old and worn to the bone, like its owner, it is frayed around the edges and nearing the end of its days.

Year after year stories are written at this desk, the stories will soon end, and the curtains will close, but till then the desk will stand strong.

– Winner, Tamariki category, Anna-Marie Chin Architects Writing Competition 2023.

Sayla Ware is 11 years old and lives on Rakiura/Stewart Island where she attends Halfmoon Bay School. Sayla wrote in response to the following prompt: “Describe a space, any space, that tells us a lot about the person who uses it.”

Copyright © 2023 Sayla Ware