Caroline Fraser 250 words
My new kite took pride of place on my bedroom wall. It was almost too lovely to be used. The radiant colours shone boastfully, leaving everything else in my room shrouded in a grey and boring shadow. It was so large it took up nearly half the wall above my bed but, as I lay down gazing up at it, a smile still firmly glued to my face, I did not seem to mind. I pictured it flying high in the air, spinning and weaving in and out of nothingness, bouncing and dancing along to the direction and speed of the wind. I imagined the awe-struck faces of little children as they stood, open-mouthed at the spectacle in front of them, growning more envious by the second. The colourful, bright fish-shaped kite would be perfect for a day at the beach.
The day finally arrived. On one Saturday morning, when we judged the wind to be just about right, we packed the car full of all the usual things for a day at the beach. My sister was buried under carrier bags with sandy buckets and spades. The picnic basket bulged as we sat it in the car boot with rugs, blankets and towels. I sat quietly beside my sister with my kite across my lap, clutching it excitedly. No longer would the kite sit gathering dust on my wall, like some unwanted object. No longer would its colourful beauty be locked behind four walls.