I am at the Royal Opera House in Cardiff. My wealthy cousin Victoria has brought me here to broaden my manners. The problem is, all it will do is broaden my imagination, which will cause me to daydream, which results in Victoria giving me a scolding for being ignorant. So it’s her fault I’m getting into trouble in the first place. I don’t tell her though, because it will get me into deeper trouble.
August 18th, 1996
As you can see, I’m not the best at paying attention. But what I saw that day has ruined my reputation of being ignorant. The woman who had just performed was walking off stage, red roses being thrown to her wake. A well organised choir entered through the stage left fire door, all dressed in white shirts, black trousers, and a purple bow-tie around each neck.
I couldn’t remember where I was for a couple of seconds, and when I came round they had started singing. I saw a boy. The rest of them were adults, yet there was a boy in the back row. Nobody had noticed him yet.
I went home soon after. I skimmed through my journal and endless encyclopaedias. Nothing. Next I went to the Opera House to see if they knew anything about it. They said to me that all the performers the night before were adults and that if I asked any more questions they would restrict me from ever coming again. I love opera, so I just walked away.
August 19th, 1996
I had all but given up hope. I had no more ideas. A piercing ring drilled into my ears. Doorbell. I opened the door and saw Victoria. I was about to close the door again when she put her high heeled foot in the door.
“The boy. I found the choir’s performing studio and there’s something you should know.”
She shouldn’t have been able to run in high heels but she did. We arrived at the studio and Victoria showed me inside. The boy was presented to me and I knew who he was immediately.
My long lost son.
This is one of my entries for the competition this term 🙂