(Fan/Act/Tra) The Little House in the Poppy Field [T]
This is something I just started writing tonight. It'll get better, but in this first part, I needed to describe the begining of this kid's life.
Oh. And I still don't know what to call this, so the title is temporary.
Part One
~The Little House in The Poppy Field~
The walls were white and cracked, the floor boards were etched in with scuff marks. Our only heat was the fireplace, and lots of times we ran out of wood. The doors were squeaky, as well as the many rats that crawled around. Even some of our chair legs were broken. Nevertheless, this was my home, the only one I had ever known. And I loved it.
I also loved the order of the house, how everything was always the same. Every morning, the person I had always thought of as my mother, Abel, would leave for work. Of course, I knew she was not my ma, but growing up in isolation like the way I did, I never really did care. She was always there for me, and that was all that mattered.
When I was little, Abel would always go over a set of rules for me before she left.
“Jericho, let me remind you. Never attempt to leave this house. It’s not safe out there. If you ever see another person outside the window, run to your room and hide. Not everyone is good, my boy.”
Like always, I nodded my little round head and bounded off to my room to color. It was just about my favorite thing to do, seeing as I was never allowed outside. I would sit by my window at my little plastic kiddy desk and draw all day long the landscape I saw, sometimes stopping to admire it’s beauty. Even though I saw the same exact piece of land everyday, it never ceased to amaze me.
Around lunch time, Abel would always come back. I would come bounding too her, jumping into her widespread arms to give her a great-big bear hug. She’d always hug me back, laugh, and ask me what I wanted to eat. Every single time I’d say “peanut-butter and jelly, please!” in the same exact tone. Even so, she never stopped asking.
Abel would usually lift me up to the counter so I could help spread the jelly. The jelly was my favorite part of the sandwich, because I loved how it was sticky and slippery at the same time. I would spread it all over with my little hands, and she would ruffle my short, choppy, and silky blonde hair.
During lunch, I would usually let her take a look at the pictures I drew. A lot of the times I drew other stuff in my drawings that wasn’t there, but was something that I imagined. Sometimes Abel would frown as she inspected them, but little-boy-me paid no attention to it. I’d just giggle and rant on and on about the day, and how excited I was to learn something new in my after-lunch learning session.
My favorite thing to do when Abel was teaching me was to read. I always felt so proud of myself when I said aloud the many words that someone had taken so long to write. It always got me hyped up and exhilarated. Afterwards, Abel would always go back to work. I would hug her and not want to let go, but I knew I had to if we were going to live correctly.
One day, after Abel had left for work for the second time, I heard a soft scratching noise. It had sounded like a rat to me, because I heard the sound so often. However, for some reason, I felt that this scratching should'nt be ignored. It intrigued me, and I went searching the house high and low for the little critter that produced it.
After of almost an hour of searching, I was beginning to lose my enthusiasm. I leaned against the wall, sulking, wishing I had found the little rat. That was when I heard it, no farther than three feet away from me, emitting from the bottom of the chair. I scooted over to it and peered under. Nothing.
Standing up, after finally having lost hope, I saw a lump in the cushion that sat on the chair. The cushion had a gaping hole, threads fraying everywhere. The little lump squeaked and tried to dart around other the cloth, but was getting nowhere. I tentatively reached in and pulled him out, expecting him to run away.
He didn’t. The little rat just sat in my palm, staring up at my six-year-old eyes with his beady black ones. I extended my other hand to pet him, and the rat didn’t even flinch. I began to play with him, and we eventually became good friends. Abel wasn’t too fond of the idea of me having a pet rat, but I didn’t care. He was my friend.
And friends have to have names, don’t they? Abel had recently read me a book called The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I had just declared it my all-time favorite book, resulting in the rats name becoming Sawyer. I thought it very fitting, as Abel told me that Sawyer meant little woodcutter. And rats chew on wood, don’t they?
After I found Sawyer, things went normally for a while. But, I couldn’t complain. Normal was usually the way I liked it. Normal also included Sawyer and me staring out the window, into the field of poppies. How splendid.
~The Kids Outside~
It had been a long, long time, since Abel had told me to hide whenever I saw kids. I had never seen any, and I didn’t know what to expect when I saw one—and at the time, if I would ever see one. So, the day when I was drawing and tall boy and two short girls came walking into view, I racked my brain for Abel’s words.
Hide in your room, she had said. I glanced at the almost-broken clock on my water-stained beside table. Abel wouldn’t be home for an hour or two. Ever since I had found Sawyer, I had been a little more rebellious. Abel had said so.
I didn’t hide. I stood in plain view, in front of my smudged window, staring at the kids. The first little girl appeared to be my age, more or less taller than me. Her hair was a silky black color that was pulled back tightly into a ponytail. The girl’s eyes, although hard to tell, seemed to be a bright blue. She was holding onto the hand of an older boy with soft looking dark brown hair, and green eyes. I didn’t know how old he was, as I only knew that at the time I was eight and Abel was in her mid-thirties. This boy looked to be in between. Thinking about the numbers in my head and the information Abel had given me on people (although not much, as she said they were to never be trusted) and figured that he must be around sixteen or seventeen.
The third must have been about thirteen (according to what Abel had taught me) with long blonde hair pulled into a French braid, much like Abel had hers. Her eyes were a deep brown, sparkling and pretty. Each of them wore much nicer attire than I did, but still looked fairly casual. My eyes seemed to be glued to them, craving to see what they would do next. I knew I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.
They came closer and closer. The little girl was holding the boy’s hand, laughing, talking, and looking up at him. He gave a brotherly type of laugh, although at the time I had no idea what that was. Suddenly, all three stopped and sat down in the grass.
I had failed to notice that the girl was holding a large basket. Out of it she pulled a red and white checkered cloth, proceeding to lay it on the ground. As she did so, the boy and the youngest girl pulled food out of the basket. My mouth practically drooled at the sight—it looked better than any food I had ever had.
Each kid sat there for what must have been an hour. I couldn’t really tell, because I simply sat there staring. Most of the time they were talking while having small bites of food in-between. Their friendship and love towards each other made me want to be part of a big family like that so bad. Sawyer had climbed on the sill to look out the window with me, possibly thinking the very thing I had been then.
“Sawyer,” I said softly, as if Abel could hear me, “Abel has told me what families are. I wish I was in a big one, like theirs. Abel is nice, but I want more. This place is too small. I need to get out.”
The rat stared up at him with those big beady eyes that had done the same almost a year ago. I smiled at him, and jerked my head up when I heard a scream. I immediately dragged my attention back to the three, watching as the scrambled off, leaving their stuff in the grass. Then I noticed Abel, chasing after them with her bag, shouting rude things and telling them never to come back. I almost wanted to shout No!, but resisted, because I knew Abel would be most unhappy if she found out I hadn’t attempted to protect myself.
But there was no danger! I would say. They were just eating! They’re people, like you and I! What could possibly be different about them?
After that, I decided that I better hide somewhere before Abel came in and yelled at me. I dove under my squeaky bed just as I heard the front door slam open.
“Jericho!?” she called out in and furious, frightened, and worried tone.
I merely whimpered, half pretending, and half from being scared of Abel’s new tone of voice.
Hearing my whimper, Abel dashed into my room.
“Jericho! Jericho! All you alright?” Abel asked, dragging me out from under the bed and cradling me in her arms. I sniffled, for the same reasons I whimpered, and buried my face in her chest. As I did, Abel cooed to me and sang, sang in the voice I always loved. After maybe half of an hour of sitting there, she laid me down on my bed to go to sleep.
As I closed my eyes and her dry lips kissed my forehead, I heard her mumble, “I told you those kids were no good.”
I still didn’t get it. What was so wrong about them?
__________________
[These Guys Will Show You Inescapable Doom]
"Maybe it's the sum of a million coincidences we don't quite control that brings us to a particular place
at a particular time, or maybe it's the choices we make, the actions we take. If there's one thing I've learned in 85 years, it's
that what we want doesn't always matter. But then again, sometimes it's all that does." - Mick St. John
01-22-2006, 09:01 PM
