Short story) When That Day Comes

<When That Day Comes>

 

I’ve always been the quiet one. I didn’t really care what people thought of me. Every morning, I’d look in the mirror, see my brown, messy hair, and think, "What’s going to be different today?" The answer was always the same: "Nothing."

That day didn’t seem any different either. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed to school. It was fall, and the leaves had turned a brilliant red, but I still felt a sense of emptiness inside. As I walked into the classroom, Maria beamed at me. Her energy was contagious. “Andrew, you’re coming to paint the mural at lunch, right?” she asked with her usual enthusiasm. I nodded.

At lunch, we made our way to the mural project behind the school. Maria was painting with bright colors, letting her emotions flow freely with every stroke. Watching her, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Her art seemed to capture her thoughts and feelings perfectly, while I struggled to express mine.

Earlier that day, we had read a poem in class. The words stuck with me: “When that day comes…” The poet spoke with a voice so powerful, willing to sacrifice everything for his beliefs. I wondered, "What would I do when my day comes? What will I leave behind?"

That question kept growing louder in my mind. As I walked home, I felt small, like a boy standing before a great storm. But rather than shrinking from it, the thought stirred something within me—a desire to act.

"Could I do it?" I whispered to myself.

That night, sleep evaded me. My thoughts swirled inside, a hurricane of uncertainty and fear. I sat down at my desk, pulled out a notebook, and picked up a pen. I wanted to write something, to find my voice and make it heard, just like the poet we studied.

But when I held the pen, my mind went blank. The emotions inside were heavy, like stones at the bottom of a river, and I couldn’t quite pull them to the surface. Then I remembered Maria’s advice: “Just start. It’ll come to you.” So, I began writing the first line. "When that day comes..."

When that day comes, I’ll release all the emotions and thoughts I’ve buried inside. I won’t give in to fear. I’ll put my voice out there for the world to hear. My words will hit like a hurricane, tearing through the silence. I’ll stand firm, rooted to the ground, waiting for the change I’ve been dreaming of.

I wrote for hours. And when I finally finished, I felt a little lighter. That night, I slept soundly.

The next day, I showed my writing to Maria. She read it silently for a while, then looked up at me with wide eyes. “This is incredible, Andrew. You have to share this with everyone,” she said, her voice filled with excitement.

I smiled, but fear crept into my chest. "Share it?" What would people think? How would they react?

A few days later, the school was preparing for a special event in honor of Independence Day. During my literature class, my teacher came up to me and said, “Andrew, I heard about your poem. How would you feel about reading it during the event?”

My heart raced. The thought of standing up on stage, reading my poem to everyone—it terrified me. But at the same time, something inside told me that I had to do it.

On the day of the event, I stood nervously on stage, my heart pounding in my chest. Rows of students sat in the auditorium, their eyes all on me. I took a deep breath and began to read. “When that day comes...” My voice trembled, but it grew stronger with each word. I poured everything into the poem, my fears, my hopes, my desire for change.

After that day, something shifted in my life. People resonated with my words, and friends who had never spoken to me before came up to share their own thoughts and feelings. I realized something important. My voice wasn’t as small as I had thought. With my words, I could move people.

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When That Day Comes

 

#ref.:

https://sosohantry.tistory.com/entry/Poem-%EC%8B%AC%ED%9B%88-%EA%B7%B8%EB%82%A0%EC%9D%B4-%EC%98%A4%EB%A9%B4