Your local community is publishing a collection of young peoples

imaginative writing about Discovery. Choose ONE image from the

noticeboard. Use this image as the basis for your contribution to the
collection.
By Victoria Lombardo

My footsteps inch closer to my refuge. Each step slides against the slippery slope as I grip
tightly for survival. Higher and higher I climb. Dirt falls to my face as my hands grip the
edge of the plank. My harsh breathing is whisked away by the wind pushing against my
weakened body. The cold envelops my entire body as I crawl restlessly towards my last bit
of hope What will the other side of the mountain lead me to believe? Will it be the same
as it once was?
I reminisce over what I once called home. In actual fact, Giovenazzo - situated in Bari, Italy
- was what it was technically called. People lived in apartments or condominium buildings
because of the little space that was available. I grew up in one of the many buildings in
Giovenazzo, always admiring from my small bedroom window the beauty of the
mountains. Always exploring, with my eyes, the forest or the meadows,; looking for a
tranquil and spacious place where I could pass the time. My Nonna believed she was the
mother of the village, preparing food for everyone... and I mean everyone. She didnt stop
cooking. Nonnas bellowing tone could be heard from the other side of town. Manga
manga manga! (eat, eat, eat!) she would scold. Yet I was oblivious to her berating.
Instead I would sit on a rock and watch the town pass by, with a full plate of steaming food
on my lap.
Nonno was known to be the outspoken noble, because everyone listened to his words of
wisdom, even though he was an old man on the brinks of insanity. Although he had a
strange mind of his own, he always pursued a world of love and happiness, which brought
our village closer and closer.

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Suddenly, An image of my village in flames bursts in my mind. The fire alive, filling my
entire body until I can no longer escape. Its flames dive low, each limb thrashing as the
serpent of evil torments my emotions. The town lies in chaos - wailing and petrified
children, mothers, fathers. Pain. I feel pain.
Reality entwines with my subconscious, just as my heightened emotions start to wear off.
My weakness strengthens by the second I reach the top of the plank. I force my feet to
move in rhythm with one another, struggling with the coordination. My eyes adjust to the
scene around me. To the west I see the clearing of trees, so familiar by which they are the
very ones I had raggedly climbed, years ago. The higher and higher I climbed, the more I
yearned to reach the top. It was striving ambition. Each step led me to a secret world
above.
I used to go there to dream with my eyes open, admiring the vast world. The leaves
appeared to come alive - twisting, turning, and dancing about in the meadow.Vibrant
colours of red and orange. The brittle autumn leaves seemed to be having a party, and as
the party moved out of sight, I began to think about the last time I visited the meadow. I
succumb to the scents, and sounds of the meadow. It was ever so peaceful. Slowly, the
hurt within subsides.
I continue my pace past the branches of life and reach my ultimate destination. Im
constantly in this mind of mine, in and out of consciousness, unsure if Im living a dream or
reality. To my shock, I discover that the tiny frame of windows, the tattered roof which once
protected my very head and the wooden front door appears to be in the same form as it
was thirty years ago. My town remains untouched as it once was.
The memories of that life pour throughout me and explode in a flurry. I reach the door and
momentarily imagine the emptiness of what may exist within. I crouch to the ground, and,
surprisingly, the hidden key had remained there after so long. Hesitating, I turn the lock.
The door squeals as if it were crying out in pain.
To my utter astonishment, what lies within is how I left it the very day I pledged my
goodbyes. Lounge, radio TV, fire stove. Entering inside, I am surprisingly enveloped with
the overwhelming need for love. My nose catches the faint smell of fratellis, my favourite
tomato inspired cheese tradition Nonna would creatively produce. Can it be? My body
convulses with desire. My footsteps quicken as I enter the chambers of my room.
My bed still pushed into the corner of the narrow space. I dive onto it, and a cloud of dust
quickly rises. I lay there for a few moments in silence. My eyes wander in awe at the rustic
dresser that stands beside me each drawer containing hidden memories that I
cherished throughout my childhood.
The unsteady handles shake, replicating my fear inside. What lies within will always be a
place of refuge. The old dresser may appear to be nothing for someone else, but to me it
was everything . It contains many of our family's best times and fondest memories. It will
forever hold the grace of my Nonnas letter, whose words encouraged me to pursue a
profession outside the confined space of the village.
The part that always strikes a chord is her words The real voyage of discovery consists
not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. From that moment on I wanted
to become a woman of pride, independence and determination. Leaving my village
allowed me to withdraw from the pain. The urn lay in front of me as I wept like a broken
soul ripped into pieces. I felt the presence of Nonno beside me. He never shared a hint of

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his emotion. But deep down I believed he was grieving in his own way, for his love who
was no longer present.
I reluctantly stand, my knees no longer wobbling, for Im filled with all of the greatest
memories I shared with Nonna. Everything within this village remained the same as it once
was before the mother of Giovenazzo had left us. As if it were a tribute. I no longer felt a
sense of hopelessness or discomfort. For the first time in what felt like forever, a heartfelt
smile creeps across my face. My eyes open to the world it once was, one that actually
never changed. The truth is, although home was the place I grew up wanting to leave, as I
continued to grow older, its now the place I want to go back to. My grief drifts away, lost in
the mountains.

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