Araby

A boy lived on a quiet little street in Dublin, Ireland, with his aunt and uncle. It was a dead-end street — cars and people could not pass through. In the evenings, the boy played outside with his friends until it was dark.

Across the street lived his friend Mangan — and Mangan had a big sister. The boy had a huge crush on her. Every morning, he watched her door. When she came out, he followed her to school, walked past her quickly, and never said a word. He was too shy. He thought about her all the time — at school, at home, everywhere. But he had almost never spoken to her.

He loved watching her from his window. He loved hearing her voice. He hated being so shy. Her name was like music to him — but she did not know any of this.

Then, one evening, it happened: she spoke to him! She asked, "Are you going to Araby?" Araby was a big special market, coming to Dublin for a few days — with lights, music and stalls full of interesting things. "I would love to go," she said, "but I can't." She had to go to a school event that week.

The boy saw his chance. "If I go," he said, "I will bring you something." A gift! For her! From that moment, he could think of nothing else. School was boring. Homework was impossible. Days passed so slowly. He only thought about Saturday, the market, and the wonderful gift he would find.

On Saturday morning, he reminded his uncle: "I want to go to the market tonight. I need some money, please." "Yes, boy, I know," said his uncle. But that evening, the uncle came home very, very late. He had forgotten all about it! When the boy finally got the money, it was already nine o'clock at night. He ran to the station and took the train across the city — alone, in an empty carriage, watching the dark streets go by.

It was almost ten o'clock when the boy arrived. He paid for his ticket and hurried into the big hall. But he was too late. Most of the stalls were already closed. Half the hall was dark. The wonderful market of his dreams was just… a big, quiet, half-empty room. Two men were counting money at a table. It felt like a church after everyone has gone home.

The boy walked slowly to one of the last open stalls. It sold tea-sets and vases — nothing special, nothing magical. A young woman at the stall was chatting and laughing with two men. She turned to the boy and asked, in a bored voice, "Do you want to buy something?" He looked at the things on the table. "No, thank you," he said quietly.

He stood there for a moment. Then a voice called out: the lights were closing. The hall became completely dark. The boy stood alone in the darkness — no gift, no magic, nothing. And suddenly he saw himself clearly: a boy who had built a whole dream out of nothing. His eyes burned with disappointment and anger — mostly at himself.