Dopey

A short story sketch I'm witting out. Feedback appreciated.

Mockery sat on the floor feeling the fibers of the carpet like they were tiny fingers scratching an unbearable itch. Over and over again he swiped his hands over the surface. The world had never felt so good before or maybe it was that his body had never been this sensitive. “Maybe we’re becoming friends for the first time.” Mockery said. 

He laid down on his back when a tingling sensation began to travel up and down his spine. Like a wave his hipbones thrusted into the ground until lifting up and the back of his head hit the shore. From ten feet away Giselle watched the collision of the boy and earth. 

“You keep doing that and you’re going to get a concussion.” Giselle said. 

“I-can’t-help-it.” Mockery said with a wide smile. “I’ve never-felt-this-way before.”

Giselle snorted. She couldn’t remember her first time smoking weed but knew that it hadn’t been this entertaining. Mockery was like a kitten with a new ball of string. The two would be inseparable for the next half hour of so. 

“Where-you-going?” 

“Just taking a look around. I’ll be in the back somewhere. Try not to hurt yourself.” 

“What?”

“I’ll be back.” Giselle said. 

Giselle wandered, taking turns whenever she saw a piece of writing on the wall. The splintered wood made it hard to make out most of them, after years of sitting in Florida's humidity and the occasional hurricane, it was like the words had tried to escape the paneling. Giselle didn’t blame them. She didn’t see how any sane person could formulate an opinion in such a dense town. Even if they lived in this house miles away from the town of Port St. James. 

Giselle stopped walking. What happens to the person that wrote on the wall? When no one listens to someone in a small town maybe they just stop talking. They resort to writing things on as the means of last hope. When that doesn't work they just stop. They die.  

“Where did they go?” she said and waited, listening. There was no echo. She felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. It was time to go back but had no way of knowing from what direction she came. 

“Mockery!” 

“Mockery!”

Mockery sat up. The whole room seemed to spin like a merry-go-round and he the pinnacle. A familiar sound had undone him. It’s noise was usually steady but just now it was like dynamite setting off explosions through the old house. 

“Giselle? Where-are-you?” Mockery said. The feeling of his own voice was like a trumpet blowing at full capacity. 

“I’m lost…move.” were the only words he could make out from the direction of the hallway to his left. He pushed himself up and made his way into it. 

The smell of wet wood seemed different than last Mockery remembered. It was like exploring a pirate ship instead of running out a flooded room during a hurricane. There weren’t any pictures on the wall but the only sight he wanted to see was Giselle’s face. It’s perfect roundness with the lazy eye on her right side. It was beautiful to watch like a crystal ball. Maybe it could tell the future while the other half of her stayed in the present. 

“Giselle!” Mockery said. 

“Over here. Please, hurry Mockery.” She said, holding her fists tight. She did’t know why she was so afraid to move other than maybe no one ever moved. The town of of Port James was here to stay forever. 

“I found you.” Mockery said gleefully. He touched his friends arm that felt prickly like a rose stem. She didn’t pull away. 

“What happens if we don’t get out of here?” 

“I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“Why?”

“Because…” Mockery said and stopped to think. When nothing came to mind he gazed into Giselle’s lazy eye. “Because I think you know what happens next. You know what’s going on. Just trust that.” 

Giselle felt her cheeks fill up like water balloons. Out came a very small tear that she wouldn’t hide. Her hand was next pulled by Mockery’s and soon the two found their way out of the house.