May 5th

MM#3

I’m cheating. I’m so tired and didn’t sit down to write until 10pm. But I wrote something. It returns to a previous character, reminds everyone where he is and his situation, and adds a complicating factor. Maybe complicating isn’t the right word. Maybe odd is the right word. Possibly threatening. I guess it depends on how you feel about birds. Black birds are often about in fairy tales.

It’s strange as I learn certain folks are reading what I write. On the one hand, I want my work to be read. Obviously. That’s why it’s posted here. On the other hand, it’s unnerving to know people are actually reading. There is a difference, after all, when you’re writing and you know no one will read it, (or maybe someone will, but not for years, quite possibly after you’re dead and they find your scribblings in a box under the bed.) and writing for a known (or somewhat known in that Internet-y sort of way) audience. Oh well. Be careful what you wish for. As any reader of fairy tales can tell you.

The little boy stood on the roof and looked out over the world. He saw the wall the surrounded the Asylum, and the trees tops that came next. He wanted to touch a tree and see if it felt as he imagined. He saw lights in the distance and stars in the sky. He heard the crickets and other night things. He didn’t what he heard, but the night was louder than he expected. He felt the chill night air through his pajamas and the rough roof under his feet. He smacked his lips, and he thought the dark tasted like a cold spoon from his supper tray.

He was afraid, but he wasn’t going to go back. Then he heard a gasp, and he heard a voice call out a name. But it wasn’t his name. No one ever said his name. He wasn’t even sure what his name was anymore, but he knew the voice wasn’t calling to him. The boy looked around, and not too far away, on top of the wall, stood someone. A girl perhaps, though he couldn’t tell for sure. For all he didn’t know about the outside world, he sensed the girl wasn’t suppoed to be there any more than he was.

He hoped that meant she would turn him in. The stranger had a rope and was soon climbing down the side of the wall.

The flutter of wings startled him. A black bird land beside him. The bird tilted its head. Another bird landed. Then another. Birds covered the roof all around him. It was as if they’d been waiting for him.

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4 responses to “May 5th

  1. I not only read what you write, I love it! I don’t expect it to be absolutely, exactly what you want the finished product to be; that’s part of what makes your work here such a treasure.

    I’ve given you a Versatile Blogger award. If you choose to accept it and pass it on, you can find it here: StoryADayMay 6 Award.

    Beautiful work, in words and graphics!

  2. I’m reading– but without expectation of where you will go, or how finished a scene should be.

    You should know though, that your rough drafts put most people’s polished pieces to shame.

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