THE Dulwich Despatch Summer 2023
Thirteen
Read on for the next two chapters from Wordsmiths, the Lower School Creative Writing Group: CHAPTER 3 Sol entered the dining room for dinner, trying his best not to let his completely shattered thoughts seep through the face he was putting on. Inside the rose - flushed walls of the dining room stood a grand mahogany table, topped with a cream silk cloth. The cook was an expert, hired for her loyalty and efficiency, and most importantly her determination never to spare any extravagance. On the menu today was her chicken casserole, a rich, intense stew. He looked at his father, all dressed up in a navy - blue suit, with a deep red tie underneath. His mother was wearing a yellow and white spotted dress, which aimed to give the impression of sunlight falling across it but really just looked out of place in the dimly lit dining room. They had both started eating and were staring at Sol with unusual interest.
‘ Have a drink, boy, ’ Marcus said in an unusually kind tone, causing Sol to start to sweat profusely...
He carefully examined the ornate glass cup his father was offering to him, disguising his movements with a sudden cough that shattered the tense atmosphere in the air. A pungent stench of burnt rubber wafted its way up to his nostrils.
They had laced the wine with a drug.
Sol sniffed it slowly. Yes. It was Zolpidem. The most effective sleeping drug in the whole of the country. H e had to leave. That much, he realised, was clear. He would pack his old, battered bag with what was important. Some spare clothes, an
umbrella that could just about fit in the tattered old backpack that he called his own, a small slew of silver Okels, just in case he forgot something. It wouldn ’ t be too hard to find someone to sell him anything else he needed. The black market in Glecka was large and did not care to whom it sold. Sol had even once overheard his mother gossiping with her friends about the President buying burner phones from them. ‘ I ’ m exhausted, ’ he said, faking a yawn. ‘ I ’ ll take this up to my room. ’ He felt his father ’ s unblinking stare follow him out into the hall. Hurrying up the stairs, he swallowed hard. He was feeling increasingly drowsy, and started to worry that in spite of all his precautions, he had swallowed the Zolpidem after all.
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