The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Something Different

                Harold’s room is dark. There’s no lights, no TV, not even the glowing blue power light of his PlayStation. The street lights outside cast a pale amber glow across the floor from the window. It makes the space look sour.

 

 

            The boy who is normally full of whimsical, and yet often profound imaginative qualities looks sullen. He can usually be found doodling or reading comic books, but instead he sits slumped on his bed, staring at nothing, thinking of everything. His cheeks are puffy, red-hot and not quite wet from stale tears.

            After waiting to see if he snaps out of it on his own, Harold’s mom knocks, but opens the already cracked door at the same time.

            “You ready to tell me what happened today?”

            Harold sniffed, a thick snort filled the room. His mother handed him a tissue, and waited.

            “I got beat up.” Harold turned towards the window as he said the words.

            “Really?” his Mom looked him over. “You look fine. Are you okay?”

            Harold shrugged off the hand that inspected his face, “I’m fine Mom, it didn’t hurt,” this he said proudly, as he craned his neck back towards his mother. She could see in his eyes, he meant what he had said. The truth in his words was overwhelming. She wanted to hold him, hug him, but she resisted, knowing that wasn’t what he needed right now.

            “So?” she asked casually.

            Finally, Harold spoke, “Ronnie Danko called me ‘fat boy’ again today.”

            Harold’s Mom nodded.

            “I told him if he ever done it again, I was gonna punch him in the mouth.”

            “So what’d you do?”

            “I punched him in the mouth,” Harold giggled, and his Mom joined him in the laughter.

            “I take it there’s more to the story?”

            Harold nodded, “After I punched him, he didn’t fall. He came at me, knocked me down and kicked me in the stomach a few times before Mr. Rawls broke it up.”

            “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

            “The worst part was no one helped me. No one even yelled at him to stop.”

            She held his hand, he let her. Harold’s Mom wanted to cry for her son. She was furious as she imagined the crowd of students staring, mouths agape, fulfilling their role as nothing but spectators. She didn’t say what she was thinking, “What happened after?”

            “I dunno, not much.” Harold’s speech quickened though, “Mr. Rawls carted Ronnie off to the office, Trisha, that student-teacher, took me to the nurse.”

            “And?” the patience in her voice was profound, knowing.

            “When’s it go back to normal?”

            She thought she had been prepared for the question, any question. “Does what go back to normal?”

            “Me?” Harold paused, maybe struggling a bit to find words, which was never a problem for him under normal circumstances. “I feel empty, like he took what made me happy.”

            She could hold back no longer, she hugged Harold, tightly. “Don’t worry it’ll come back in time son, and it will be stronger than ever. You will be stronger than ever.”

            “Thanks Mom.”

            “Thanks for talkin’ to me,” she rose from his bed, and headed for the door.

            “Mom, I thought I had him you know? I just thought I had it figured out, how it would go. Thought, he would fall and not get back up.”

            She paused to look down at her son, “Sounds like you two have something in common. Only difference is he got up and kept going during the fight, you get to do it after.”

            Harold nodded. She hoped he understood as much as he seemed. “Oh by the way, there is one thing I know for sure little man.”

            “Ya, what’s that?”

            “That precise moment when you think you have things figured out, just know you don’t.”

            “So what do you do then?”

            “Something different.”

Why?

                She is locked in a room. All white, all consuming. Walls cannot be defined from floors; floors cannot be defined from ceilings.

Just her, no one else. She hears voices, sees things, and feels emotions. All of these are familiar. She breathes them in, consumes them, they are her only sustenance.  Then they are gone. Just gone.

Then, before her is a box. It floats there in the room. She inspects with her eyes, her fingertips, it is a puzzle labeled Past. She examines it, the more she sees the more foreign the pieces become. Few fit. Many fit. Nothing fits.

She twists and turns, contorts into knots and through it all she wonders how her body doesn’t break, snap like taffy stretched too thin, and pulled apart harshly.

Then she swirls and bends, her mind is a puzzle, melting and changing, then she is the puzzle. Only now she is one of those multi-colored cubes. Her face on one square, her hand on another, covering each space. Other parts spread across its façade, enveloping it. Making her one dimensional, thin, like the taffy. She turns to turn herself, into herself, moving and arranging the pieces into something, anything. But it’s futile.

The word Why echoes through her mind. She then fades into pixels, they gradually become smaller and smaller, until she is no more.

 But she’s not over.

 Why continues to thump and boom like it’s part of a simplistic techno beat. The word plays over and over again, the reverberations of its noise vibrating her, finding her, crawling across her flesh even though she no longer exists on this plane.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

She wakes, struggles out from the covers and begins her day. The same day she lived yesterday, and the day before.

WHY?

Window Shopping Part 3

The beast was heading towards me at a gallop, teeth on display, tongue drawn, ears alert. Its eyes were both wide and wild, holding a hint of that orange shine that was fading with the rising sun.

As the wolf began cutting the distance between it and I, somehow found the courage to do something. I waved my arms, and then began to shout and bellow in an effort to scare it off.

Yes, I’m sure it looked ridiculous, but don’t laugh, please.

At any rate, this didn’t slow the creature at all. It still keep coming, legs splaying out behind it with a lunatic gait. It cut the distance between us and the closer it got, the more my display of superiority faltered and then finally stopped. Here I was, in a strange realm that I never should’ve ventured into in the first place, and I was never going to see home again. I would die here.

The wolf was close enough that I could now hear its ragged breathing as it came for me. I averted my eyes, not wanting to see the fatal bite coming. I imagined the wolf extending its back legs, and leaping from the ground, its jaw extending to welcome my flesh to its mouth. I cringed with dread, nearly curling up into the fetal position right there in the leftover wheat.

Then the wolf pounced, knocking me to the ground.

I expected to feel the tearing of teeth against my bare flesh, the pressure of the beast’s jaws clamping down, and the pain.

Instead, I felt a tongue lapping over my cheek. After my mind was able to process that I wasn’t being ripped apart, I had the courage to open my eyes. What I saw was no merciless killer, The wolf-if that’s in fact what it was, was on top of me, licking my face and wagging his tail.

I was so relieved not to be dead or dying it took me a moment to realize the wolf, wasn’t really a wolf at all; it was a dog.

“Down boy,” I said with hope in my voice, and to my astonishment the dog listened. I surveyed the beast that was; it wasn’t as haggard, or desperate as I had first thought. In fact, it was calm, fur well maintained and really friendly, lucky for me. “Can I be sure you’re not going to eat me?” The dog coated my face again with its enormous tongue. “Ok, that’s an argument against.” I gently stroked the dog’s fur. “Geesh, I wish I had some water or even some food to give you...but maybe we can find that together?”

I saw my reflection in the dog’s eyes. It had become one of hope.

“Alright boy, let’s find us some civilization, or something. Maybe at least some bacon. Mmm that sounds kind of good,” I had told the pooch. I guess that wasn’t too much to hope for at least?

Ahem, well my new friend and I began trudging over the terrain yet again, at first I wasn’t sure he’d follow, but surprising me once more, the dog began leading me! I did what came natural, I followed. Every few moments the dog looking back to ensure I was still tagging along.

More footsteps behind more paw prints led to more travel. Although the sun was at full attention, having warmed me enough to be comfortable, if not content, I still wondered when I’d get to taste some type of water, as my throat was now beyond parched.

As you might’ve guessed, that’s about when I stumbled on your little cabin here.

That my friend is how we got here...Now what’s next?

*

I had told my story, what little there was to tell, and as I finished I looked down at my canine companion expecting him to bark in some declarative way that emphasized its truth as if on cue. Of course that didn’t happen. In fact nothing really happened, the man that I had been talking to only stared blankly back across the table from me. His face only hinted at one thought; that there was no fucking way I could be telling the truth.


TO BE CONTINUED!