Malu

My first post.

I press my forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the mist beyond. It drapes itself over everything beneath it, the great trees in the park across the road, the slow moving traffic, the ladies and gentlemen hurrying along the sidewalk. The warm darkness behind me shadows a dormitory of tired and overheated children. How I wish I could be draped by the cool mist, to run, leap and climb throughout the day would be ecstasy. I can see a clown, well rehearsed in his tricks, handing out balloons, one of which is red. I want it, I will get it. It can be my goal.

            I turn away and crawl beneath the heavy curtain, the room is filled with quiet snores. I want to leave, but the door is guarded by the uncaring nurse who threw me in here in the first place. Why? I had been painting the red balloon caught in the boughs of a tree when a disgusting little monster shoved his filthy hands right over the wall, I pushed him to the ground and he went on to cry. The ignorant nurse the came over to chastise me for my actions, no matter what I said she would not even begin comprehend me. All she could see was a dirty mess on the wall and a crying toddler. She picked me up like an animal and put me up in the bunk. They say ignorance is bliss and she defiantly looked satisfied with herself, but I say it is a destructive blend of arrogance and stupidity.

            So I want to leave. The window is both high and strong and the door is guarded. I immediately lean towards the window as a means of escape as it will have no intelligent response to my efforts as long as I don't call attention to myself. Lifting up the bottom of the curtain I have a look at the latch, It'll be difficult to move but it's plausible. I'm on the first floor, but the window's at least two metres off the ground, I wouldn't want to jump. I briefly contemplate trying to get to the tree in the front yard, but it's too far off, it would, however, get me over the fence to the pavement. I decide I'll need to lower myself, the latch in the open position will be a perfect beam, but I need at least four and a half metres of rope to make it comfortably, a three meter minimum. The problem of the rope is an easy one, I'll use the bed sheets.

            I gather as much as I can of the coarse white fabric in my pudgy hands and strain to pull them off the mattress. In five seconds my grip slips and fall backwards, hitting my back on the bed head. I'm bruised but there's a gold lining, only the bottom sheet slipped, I've pulled the other up and off the bed. I try to tear it, but it's going to be too hard for me, closing my eyes and looking the other sheet is string fastened underneath. I think for a second then tie the sheet to the cold steel of the bed head, throwing the rest of it over the side of the cot. I climb up and over, pleased with my strength.
            The restless child below has already worked her blanket free, I pull it off her not bothering to ask. They can't really talk. She clutches her little ted to her and watches me climb up again. Trying to untie the knot at the top I realise it is far too tight, she's following me. I frown at her but she's not looking, I can't yell for fear of the hag checking the dormitory. Ugh, I can't stand it. I want that balloon, I want to go. I watch her as she climbs up over onto my bed and can't help but be impressed, she's using one hand to hold the teddy bear. I frown, maybe she's like me, a talker, a rational. No, she's just strong. I pointedly put my finger on my lips and retrieve the blanket, hoping she’ll understand or just stay quiet. Tying both of them together I make a sling on one end, for me to sit in as I let the other end slide up past me. I open the window and take in a deep breath of the frigid air, the girl watching me. I brace the window with the latch and throw down the “rope”.

            To my horror she's in the sling and jumping down after the end of rope. I seize the blanket but it's slipping through my hands. She grips it as it slips up past her and comes to a stop from her free fall, her teddy falling the last half a meter to the ground. She looks up and grins, the whole episode has been strangely silent, just my heavy breath and the creak and rasp of the sheets. Lowering herself down to the ground she climbs off and wanders off down the path to the road and watches the people go by. Pulling up the rope and lowering myself down after her I quickly follow her into the, afraid that the hag’ll check the dormitory or glance outside before the mist envelopes us.
            The grass is moist, my bare feet brushing it quickly soaked. The path is cold, a puddle by the fence truly freezing, my feet breaking a paper thin crust of ice. The girl, seeing I've followed her, sets off onto the road without me needing to say so. I almost skip after her, gazing at the world around me. The men and women are in formal dress, presumably going to and from work. The cars are curved and sleek, their tires sending up little curtains of water up from the road. The day care centre behind me is tall and withdrawn, the rain playing across its neat brickwork. Steamy smoke pours from the tall chimney above it, and its neighbour, and its neighbour, they go on right down the road each way. I skip into the park, jumping nimbly over the chain. The first tree gives me cover from the light shower I hadn't realised I'd been missing. The girl is sitting beneath it with the teddy, watching me look around at the awesome. I sit beside her, both of us glad of the warmth. The clown is doing the same under another tree by a path, his shoulders hunched up in his jacket, the last three balloons tied to a branch above him.
            As I'm about to point out the red balloon to the girl, but it breaks free and makes it way through the canopy, dancing it's way under the rain into the clearing dark sky. I don't really mind. It wasn't important anyway. The cold pulls me into sleep.

 

I wake up under a thick, warm, green blanket, the girl curled up beside me. Blinking in the golden early morning light coming in through the autumn leaves I see it's the jacket the clown had been wearing. I slip out from under it and walk to another tree to hide from the road, no one’s in the park. I relieve myself and blow a globule of snot from my nose to the ground. Coming back I can see the clown sleeping up in the tree above, his shirt a pastel purple and his trousers blue. I watch him wearily for a while, adults strength give them a horrible arrogance. He seems to be reasonably thoughtful, he hasn't moved us and he's given up his jacket which he probably needed for his own comfort. Even so, he probably has plans and he's sleeping lightly. I start to leave, heading into the park, but the sight of the girl stops me. She should come too, I think, I can trust myself but not a stranger,  a clown. I take her shoulder and shake her gently. She comes to wide eyed and gasping, quickly returning to her normal shy and observant self and frowning slightly at me. I walk away, she follows with the ted. It's nice to be moving in the crisp morning air, but looking back at the traffic I notice something that puts an uncomfortably eager spring in my step, the clown watching us with large, deep brown eyes.
            Away from those depths and the gentle sound of the street it's beautiful, the towering trunks and drifting leaves, the small squelch of the grass and soil underfoot. Even the girl is stepping lightly, watching the wanderers on the path and the rickety prams trundle by. We come to an incredibly ornate fountain and play around in its waters, splashing each other and an astonished little boy who runs back to his mother after the first drop leaves the pool. Presently, drying out on an adjacent bench, I realise I'm famished.
            “Hungry?” I query. The girl sits up and nods once quickly. I stand up on the bench and look around, there is plenty of food around, a ice cream vendor, half a dozen of picnic baskets and what looks to be a hotdog stand a while off down the path. I make off towards a lady and her two children sitting in the open grass with a wealth of food spread out on a blanket. The woman just watches us as we sit ourselves down and I tuck in, the girl copying me once she sees no response. The other two children look as perplexed as their mother as we devour buns filled with cheese and ham, lettuce and gherkins. The woman looks around to find our caregivers, but every one else is paying no attention at all.
            Thinking it best that we leave before she makes plans I get up and leave, taking two buns with me. The girl rests for a moment more on the blanket then gets up and follows me.
            “I didn’t realise you were old enough to talk.” She states in a clear well formed voice. I turn and look at her for a moment, she talks with an eastern accent, one I have rid myself of. She’s a mod’ like me, another weird kid ‘rescued’ from Malu and ‘rehabilitated’. No, I think, if she’s in the same place as me they’re studying us, or at least keeping us together. I scan the horizon, everyone seems to ignore us, two children walking in the shade of an avenue of oaks. But any of the gentlemen reading or bustling down the path beside us, any of the ladies pushing a pram or walking amongst the plants would have no trouble keeping an eye on us.

            “Malu.” I state, watching her eyes. They don’t change, what’s she thinking?
            “Yes, I’ve been there.” She says, watching me. I continue walking, thinking it’s nice not to be alone. “Do you have plans?” She asks after a while. I stop and sit down cross legged amongst the acorns.
            “No, do you?”

            “No.” She seems satisfied, and lies down beside me, playing with the leaves and the teddy, making a little blanket for him and pulling apart acorns for his tea.

            After a while I get thirsty and head back to the fountain for a drink, the girl setting up a new place up on a broad shoulder of an oak with sticks and leaves. Now, with the sun about four hands from its zenith no one is enjoying the park, it’s almost empty only the occasional mother and child or line of school children. I take a drink and wash my head in the cool water and then head back, walking down the middle of the wide path to the avenue, leaves drifting down slowly all around me in the warm breeze.

            I get back and the girl is sleeping with the teddy, I sit out along a branch and wonder what to do, whether or not to make a plan and what to plan for if I do. Reaching no conclusion I curl up around the girl and fall asleep with only the warmth in my mind.

 

I wake up with an empty stomach, but I’m not particularly hungry. From her pulse I’d say the girl was awake, but she’s still.

            “Good morning Sam.” She says in a quiet voice, most likely addressing me, the teddies probably been awake a while.

            “Morning Isabelle.” I reply, only slightly louder.

            “It’s Lucy.” Isabelle replies, sitting up with her legs over the edge. I nod and smile.

            “Morning Lucy then, what do you feel like?” It’s already warm and there’s no one to be seen, the sun is hardly risen. Hiding behind the centre of the city. Everything but the tops of the buildings in the distance and some of the taller trees is in shade, no breeze yet and all the leaves are on the branches or the ground.

            “Going for a walk back into the streets and amongst the buildings, with you, and finding some food.”

            “Sure.” I get up and climb down the trunk, the crags in the bark perfect for my fingers and the edges of my shoes soles. My limbs are still tired, I need to eat, I can walk nimbly enough though. The girl follows me down, in bare feet, and we continue down the avenue into town.

            The buildings are taller on this side, all of them of old stone or new wood tucked away in the alleys. I look up, away from the bustling crowd swarming through the roads, contorted gargoyles glaring down from the edge of the sky. The girl submerses herself eagerly in the crowd, I see her bumping into purses and stumbling into jackets and satchels. She’s in a bank with the codes to every vault. Her fat victims don’t notice ‘till it’s far too late, looking around at a loss at the mob. I catch up to her and touch her shoulder. She tenses and glances around quickly, relaxing when she sees me.

            “We don’t need so much.” I say in a low voice. “We could make do with what we find.”

            “I am finding, thank you, these men are fat and spoilt on the wealth of their inheritance, I am simply stealing off them.” She states. “I would prefer to support the economy and move money into constructive hands, from the launderers to the bakers, smiths, workers, merchants and their families. Than to merely take from the land around us.” I look at her for a moment and then nod in acceptance. She moves off into the crowd, filling first her and then my pockets with notes. I acquire myself a short knife, a whet stone and a pie from a gangly butcher, following the girl at a distance.

Around mid day she walks into an alley and we both sit down behind a pair of bins. She frowns when she sees my knife and the pie. “Did you buy those?”

“No, why should I? The beast did little but eat our grass and s**t in our water and it’s owner was stupid to breed it.” I retort.

“I knew you hadn’t. Is it not worth the beauty to feed the family?”

“Is it not worth the beauty to allow the rich to spend millions on paint and canvas, to spend their lives critiquing abstract concepts? No, it is grotesque.” She frowns at me.

“One has to draw a line in the sand.”

“No, you can just stand in the water, it makes no sense to allow yourself leeway for the sake of leeway.” I stand up and sit on the lid of one of the steel bins. She looks up at me and frowns, I can tell she still doesn’t agree with me. I think about what I want to do. I’m not at all sure. Do I like flamboyancy and extravagance? This simple question confounds me because I think yes, but I don’t know why. I need a logical loop, so I don’t just keep ending up with a “simple truth”, because “simple truth”s are silly and nonsensical. People must have thought about this before. Written about it. I have a goal again, to read and find all the books on the subject of the goal of living, to find a library.

“I’m going to find a library, what to do you want to do?” I ask the girl.

“We should both find a place to stay and get some food and water, yeah?” I think for a second.

“Yeah, definitely. We should check the roofs for rain catchers and if we can’t find a place underground will definitely be an option.”

“Or just a house?”

“No, then we are recorded and anyone can find us.”

“Not if we don’t buy it.” She retorts.

“We wouldn’t know when we’d have to go, and I don’t want to move.” She looks at me for a while.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” She smiles at me, I smile back, standing. I turn to face the wall, 

Author's Note

I would love any criticism, this piece has a long way to go. I'll try and put some good time into it weekly.

Reviews

[Katannaism]

Not bad for a first try~ A few grammar mistakes.
Example: 3rd paragraph: So I want to leave. It should've been I want(ed) to leave.
But a nice piece for starters.