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Chalk and Dreams
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Chalk and Dreams
Chalk and Dreams
The boy lay shivering on a mattress with no sheets, held up by a rickety metal frame. He was curled in a blanket so patched and threadbare that it resembled the contents of a ragbag in some places and a glorified fishnet in others. Wind whistled through a jagged hole in the window, reminding him of the long drop to the ground. He fell into a fitful sleep of blood and broken dreams.
A floor below, two girls sat side by side on an equally decrepit bed. One of them cradled a piece of chalk. "This is our last piece of chalk." They startled, turning at the sound of an opening door. A ghostly woman laid two plates of hot food on the dresser, then left, locking the door behind her. The girls shoveled food into their mouths, then marked a line on the wall. "Day 478." The other nodded with finalty. Each marking was a chip of hope for escape. Each marking was a chip of hope lost.
submitted by The jig is up, age don't care, don't matter
(May 27, 2020 - 8:05 pm)
(May 27, 2020 - 8:05 pm)
The boy was still shaking, but now he was sitting on a stone floor, holding a piece of chalk in his hands. He was starting to forget. When he forgot, he drew. With quick short strokes he drew the letters. He had long since forgotten their meaning but remembered their importance. His trembling hands jerked a line astray, and he cursed softly. He had not yet forgotten his vocabulary, not a word.
There was a book with the girls' meal. "Adelaide!" Zella held it up, eyes round with anticipation. Adelaide snatched id, flipped it open, and began to read........
"'If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending......'"
They didn't care about a happy ending.
They cared about the story.
Adelaide finished the book in an hour.
When she was done, Zella's fingers were twitching. She knew not why.
Thirteen days, thirteen books. They stopped marking the wall.
They waited a week-nothing more came with their food.
Another week elapsed, and they started marking the wall again.
But next week came two books. Adelaide grabbed the smaller one on top.
"'After Jesus ascended into heaven (in 30 or 33 A.D.), he sent the Holy Spirit to guide his apostles....'"
(May 28, 2020 - 9:02 am)
Okay, is this related to that other mysterious story thread? I'm not sure I follow.
(May 28, 2020 - 9:54 am)
The memories were disappearing thick and fast...He had run out of room on the walls. Before they disappeared the played out in vivid detail he lay there watching them....
"'In my first memory I am three years old and trying to destroy my sister'"
Zella cried when they finished that one, but Adelaide just sat, dry-eyed, and thought of the time when people called her Addie.
The nights are very interesting. Maybe even worth the ache of Day.
(May 28, 2020 - 11:53 am)
THE END
Yeah, I don't really know what it's about either. Very few of my stories have a point. I think it's about books replace hope or something. I don't know anything about the boy's POV.
Reveiws? [well other than the lacking-an-understandable-point problem]
(May 28, 2020 - 2:05 pm)
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