Boy

STORY

Deranged. What a deranged little boy. He knew it. Loved it. He climbed up a tree. Threw his dusty slippers down. He kept his dusty feet.

Lovely. What a lovely morning. He knew that too. He felt lovely. Very loveable, indeed. He thought about it. That memory he intended to keep.

Belligerent. What a belligerent home. His sister fought the dog. It was unnerving. He thought about it. He didn’t want to keep it.

Roared. The birds roared. He could appreciate the confidence. He did it for three minutes. Then one came and sat beside him.

Far. The clouds were far. He intended to make them stay there. He wanted them to listen. Listen, they did.

Muddy. His clothes were muddy. That’s how he intended them to be. He felt it was a good look on him. A look he liked to see.

Call. He heard his mother call. He wished he hadn’t. He pretended he didn’t. There was another. He did not intend to hear.

Stubborn. Very much like the day. He stayed and the day was a happy one. He feared the night might be different.

Dream. He wished he could have one of his dreams. He planned to make it happen. There was no reason why it shouldn’t.

Night. It was now night. He blew out the lantern of his father’s tobacco stall. And then he ran downhill to home.

Sting. He felt it on the side of his temple. He had hid in the tree all day. He knew it was coming. Knowing that made it bearable.

Dew drops. The dew drops dropped and made it sting a bit more. He wanted to get warm and get inside. It was his main plan for the night.

Enchantress. He looked outside the window, there was an enchantress. Looking pretty in her soft silver dress.

Smile. She did. He returned it using his own face. They were friends now. She beckoned, he followed. The only part he didn’t like was going out again.

Snapped. Her fingers snapped. There appeared a chaise, shiny like a patronus. He got in. She drove and they flew away.

Cloudy. The sky was cloudy but that was alright. As long as she was driving, he knew there was no reason to intend this memory or this moment away.

Worlds. There were so many worlds. She asked him to pick. He looked at them, looked at them hard. He did not know how to do it. He did not know where to start.

Purple. The pretty purple world was nice. But then so was the pretty pink. Red felt right, but the blue was the most exciting.

Toppled. The table of his thoughts in his mind toppled. They were all over the floor. He tried to pick a world with them. But they made sense no more.

Fluff. He parted the fluff of the cloud a little. Through that peep hole he looked down. He saw his world just lying there. So he asked to go back to the ground.