I Am Ten Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 16: THE PAST SIDRA’S P.O.V 11 years ago. Ummi, ummi, am home, my ten year old self ran to hug my mother. I was happy that I had finally completed my madrasa courses, in addition it was also the same day I was going to be awarded a blue belt in Tae kwon do. Despite being quite young, both my IQ and EQ were higher than the average child’s.

The realization brings me a sense of comfort and I lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind oddly takes me back to a very terrified ten year old me at an amusement park. My peers were going around getting on rides but I was holding on to my mother's leg. I was always very shy and I didn't get along with other kids so I was going everywhere she was going.

I looked at him with a mix of sadness and confusion plastered on my face. “I didn’t know I could do that..” I said truthfully. Beta Cornelius frowned “How old are you?” He asked me. I smiled as I replied “I just turned 10 today!” I exclaimed happily. His eyes widened along with Brayden’s eyes. “You just turned 10?” He asked with shock clear in his voice. I nodded and smiled wide. “Happy Birthday, Little One.” Beta Cornelius smiled as he spoke. “Thank you!” I said with an even wider smile.

Selena's POV The field is endless. Green, rolling, alive with a wind that doesn't chill—only moves. I stand at the edge of it, barefoot, the grass tickling my ankles. I am ten years old. I know because my hands are small, my arms thin, my hair long and tangled the way I used to wear it before I learned to braid. But my mind is not ten. My mind is twenty-three, heavy with war and loss and love.

Rain was gently falling outside my old bedroom window. I could recall it all so vividly, as if the memory had been sewn into the very texture of my flesh. The gentle pounding on the windowpane, the smell of cinnamon from the candle my mom had lit in the hallway, the noise of traffic in the distance muted by the heavy curtains—it all came back with terrifying clarity. I was ten. My bedroom was a tangled mess of pinks and creams, with too many stuffed animals, ballet dancer posters, and a ruffled canopy bed I'd pleaded for my parents to buy.

Eric stated after throwing a pop corn into his mouth. “Why do your father hate you so much?” Joe asked. “You don't remember everything a thing, do you?” “No I don't, that's why I need you to help me remember” “Are you sure you're talking to the right person, the last time I remembered, you clarified it that you never trusted me”. 'Well guess I changed, by the way, how old am I? “Your eighteen” “I knew it was eighteen” Joe mumbled, looking happy about it.

I start running toward the packhouse. I can’t get away from him fast enough. He had the audacity to touch me in front of everyone. As soon as I mention the idea of wanting a mate, he pulls away from me faster than a rabbit being chased by a fox. That’s not even what I want anymore. I was ten. I was stupid. Does he really think I want a mate? Does he really think I want him as a mate? This just confirms that I’m simply a toy for him to play with. And I’m done playing.

I always believe that I’m possibly in a protracted dream, which is why I would always feel as though I’m living in a nightmare. But each time I wound myself, I’m made aware of the fact that this is indeed my circumstance. Everything that is occurring to me is genuine. It's never a dream or a nightmare; instead, it's experiences and memories from the past and present that I wish I could run away from. Time passed, and when I’m around ten years old—I’m still a youngster at the time—I would play in our garden, chat with our household's staffs, and grin affectionately at the vibrant scenery of the warm sky. It is, nonetheless, a highly remarkable circumstance at that age.

It was a typical day at school, and I was sitting in the courtyard with my friends, Taylor and Lily. We were all ten years old almost 11 and excited to be going into the summer holidays together before we started sixth-Grade. As we chatted and laughed, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach. You see, I was waiting for a letter from Max, and I hoped that he was playing a little nicer now that I gave him a taste of how mean he was to me.

he said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. I blinked, my cheeks burning at the unexpected honesty in his words. For a moment, I could not think of a clever response, so I settled for a small smile. "You surprise me sometimes." "Good," he replied, leaning forward, the candlelight catching the sharp angles of his face. "Tell me something about yourself I do not know." I tilted my head, looking at him. "That’s a dangerous invitation." "I like danger. Try me." I toyed with the rim of my glass, searching for something to say something light, something safe but what came out surprised even me. "When I was ten, I wanted to be an astronaut."