The life of King Charles’ pillow | Story by Srinithi,8, Kolkata

My eyes first opened in a huge factory, on a pedestal surrounded by scattered pieces of cloth and feathers. When I looked around, I saw myself surrounded by many lumpy friends of mine and heard a worker calling them ’pillows’. Looking down at myself, I saw that I appeared to be exactly the same, and so realized that I must be a pillow too.

Just when I was beginning to take stock of my surroundings, a needle started pricking me. Ow! Ow!

It was not long before I was packed into a truck with my patterned friends. The ride was cramped, smelly and musty. But instead of arriving at a second-rate pillow store, I found myself at the Buckingham Palace, where I learnt I had been made for King Charles! Very excited, I was taken inside. While the palace sported many beautiful antiques, King Charles’ bedroom was absolutely breath-taking.

What I saw was a luxurious four- poster bed covered in red with various choices of blankets and bolsters. To make me soft, I was feather-stuffed and fitted with a snug velvety cover in a blue triangular design.

As King Charles liked to embrace me at night, I felt very important. I was well taken care of and was laid in the sun each morning. Mr. Blanket, Miss Bolster and Mrs. Bedsheet had soon become fast friends with me.

One day, a horrible incident occurred. While I was chatting with Master Quilt, a servant took me out for my daily exercise, even though sunlight was scarce and the sky looked overcast, thanks to the typical London weather. Not long after, it began to drizzle followed by heavy rain. I became dripping wet and soaked right to the cotton. A maid noticed my sorry state and quickly brought me in. When King Charles came over and saw me, he said he could not use me anymore. He handed me down me to his maid.

I was quite sad at this turn of events. Even though the maid took good care of me, it took me a little time to adjust to the tiny hut. I am happy with my new life but I do miss my old life sometimes.