True story, so long ago that it feels like someone else's

More uni work. 'Write up a memory from your childhood in your street.'

The flat faced dog is barking at me again. He always sits at the edge of the garden, the garden across the road. Staring with his beady little eyes and barking furiously. Never comes out of the garden though. Wuss. I edge back anyway. (Shut up.)

They’ve been gone ages now. The other kids in my street. I hate being the youngest. Penned in by the invisible barrier on the corner of the street that only mum can see. Little girls can’t walk through it. Ceiron will tell on me if I try. He comes around the corner too quietly. I don’t hear him and it makes me jump. I feel my face flush. I don’t want him to know I’m scared.

His face is fat and wobbly, his hair short and fuzzy. He’s much taller than I am but even sat, cross legged on the floor I can see the shiny, wetness in the fuzz on his head.  He stands above me, smiling. I don’t like his smile. His teeth are yellow and gnarled, his lips pull back too far over them. He looks like the clown in my nightmare, only fatter and uglier.

 “You watch that dog don’t ‘ave you, mind!” His voice is friendly, but his eyes are too wide to be inviting. I don’t want him to talk to me anymore. I look away, around the corner to see if Ceiron and Brett are coming. I wish they were coming. They’re not. He’s still looking.

   “You live in umber fourteen don’t you?” He calls my attention back to his squinty eyes. His skin looks like it’s pulled too tightly over his massive face.

   “Yeah.” My voice come out too quiet and fades into a whisper. It was out before I could stop it. I shouldn’t have spoken to the fat man. He’s a stranger. As soon as I look away again I remember a day in the kitchen. Mum and Daddy talking quietly by the plaster cupboard. They told me and Ceiron to sit down, told us about a little boy who talked to strangers. That the little boy was taken away and hurt by the strangers.( His name was Jamie- no James, that’s it, James). Mum’s going to be angry if she knows I talked to the fat stranger. I’m going to be in trouble. I want to tell him to go away but I can’t talk. He’s still watching with his too wide eyes.

   “I know your dad.”

   I still don’t talk.

   “We’re mates.”

   I don’t recognise him. But if he says he’s daddy’s friend it must be true. Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe I’m allowed to talk to him, like Uncle Chris. I’m going to talk to him. He’s daddy’s friend. It’s rude to ignore people. Especially friends.

   I smile up at the fat stranger and his thin, wet lips slide back over his grimy teeth again. His eyes are bigger now, like the clown’s.

   “Like Uncle Chris?.” I ask, speaking louder this time.

   He nods. He’s like Uncle Chris, I’m allowed to talk to him then. I start to ask him if he has a dog too but he’s not looking at me now. Ceiron is coming up the hill with Brett; they’ve got little white bags that I know will be filled with Cola Cubes. My mouth waters. The fat strang- Daddy’s friend is gone when I look up, walking into the house on the corner. He didn’t say goodbye, that’s rude.

Later, I ask Daddy about his friend in the house on the corner. He takes me to show him. Daddy doesn’t have a friend in the house on the corner.

 “You must never talk to strangers.” Daddy says.

Author's Note

Again, sorry about line/paragraph spacing.

Reviews

[roarke]

good original lead in setting. A bit suspenseful, a bit dark/eerie.
I like the way you developed the story through the thoughts of the child. The description of the stranger was excellent.
Tightly written piece. Thanks.

[Emily Cunningham]

Thanks again! :)