Autobiography of a Newspaper
Photo credit: shuttermaster from morguefile.com
Just out of the printing press I smell wonderful. I smell strongly of ink and I am also very warm to hold. Its not just me though. Even my friends smella and feel the same. That’s why they are my family. This is my first day of life. My excitement undeniable. I am now stacked on top of my friends and bound by a rope. We are flung into the back of a van and thus my journey begins. Its a bumpy ride to my desined home. Ahh… the thought of a home warms my heart. Suddenly, the van stops with a jerk. I hear noises and then the door is flung open. My friends and I are pulled forward and then flung out of the van on to hard ground. It took me few minutes to realise that this isn’t home. It can’t be! Just then we were lifted of the ground and placed on the basket of a bike. I hoped once again to be home soon. I enjoyed the bike ride as wind flew through my folds. It was cold yet great. Then, yet again we stopped. Tring tring. A bell rang from very near me it almost made me jump. Then I was ripped from the stack and thrown. Fear was all over me. What was happening? It seemed like forever as I went flying through the air. Finally I slowed and neared ground. I fell and slid a few paces before coming to stop right in front of the front door of a house. I stared at that door and felt a new found happiness. I was home.
I lay there waiting, it seemed like hours. Was I not wanted at my new home. I was beginning to feel disappointed and rejected when the door flew open and I was picked up. I was opened and admired. I was caresser so softly I wanted to cry. Everyone wanted to see me. They wanted a peek at all the secrets I hold dear. I let them. I let them know me inside out. They were my family.
But as night came by, I have been sitting on the table for hours. They have lost interest in me. I began to panic. I didn’t know what to do. Finally I was once again lifted and held close to a heart. Just as I was getting used to feeling of being loved I was dropped on the floor of a very dark and congested room. I looked to my side and so many others like me. Dirty, old and crumpled. I was no different. As sadness enveloped my little heart I fell into deep sleep.
Next morning, I was awokened by loud voices. It was a new day, a new beginning. I could only hope. The door to the dark room was opened and in the blink of an eye I was pulled out. Tiny hands held me and waved me around so much my head started to spin. But a little girl cannot be blamed. She wouldn’t know what to do. Suddenly I felt a stabbing pain on my side. A bit of me had been ripped of to wipe a window. I felt pain again and more of me had been ripped of to clean a spilt drink off of a table. I wanted to crybout and ask them to stop, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t make a sound.
Finally when I was done for, I was crumpled up and thrown into a garbage bin. I stayed there, amongst dirt and other things. I no longer smelled of the wonderful ink, I no longer felt warm. I was dumped out with the rest of the garbage and sorted. I was thrown into a pile with all kinds of papers. We were then taken to be recycled. We were wet and turned to pulp. We were left our under the sun to dry. I knew all along what my fate would be. A was meant to be a newspaper once again…
