See Ya!

Reads: 81  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 10

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium

Submitted: October 23, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 23, 2017

A A A

A A A



See Ya!

Winona Harris ran into her son’s bedroom for the fifth time in one week. It was 2am and he was thrashing around; screaming and moaning. When she went over to try to wake him, she saw he looked scared, terrified by whatever was taking place in his nightmare. She placed her hand on his shoulder, shook him gently; “Simon, wake up! It’s just a bad dream.”

And just as he had on the previous four nights, her seven year old son sat up, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t let him get me, Mom?”

Winona smoothed back Simon’s hair, dried his tears with a tissue. “Who is it, Simon? There’s no one here. Who are you scared of?”

Just like the other times Simon just shook his head in confusion. “I can’t.....can’t remember, Mom.”

Well, you try and get some sleep now. You’ve got an exciting day tomorrow, remember. You’ll no longer be seven, but a whole eight years old.” She knew that ‘tomorrow’ was already here but didn’t want him leaping out of bed for his cards and presents in the middle of the night. Simon had already snuggled back down under his quilt and his eyes were closing.

Mark turned over when Winona climbed back in to bed. “Same thing, huh?”

Winona nodded. “It’s strange that he never remembers a thing though....” She snuggled up in her husband’s arms and closed her eyes. She needed to get some sleep or she’d never make it through the party.

Simon was up at his normal time, getting ready for school. “Do I really have to go? It is my birthday....”

Yes, you do! We’ve got lots of things to do before this evening. Don’t forget to tell your friends to be here at half past four, okay. Oh, and you’ve just got time for one present before you go. Just go in the hallway and see if you can find you Dad!”

Winona smiled tiredly as she heard her son’s delighted laughter, heard the puppy’s high-pitched bark. Almost instantly the door opened and she found herself being engulfed in a whirlwind of giggles and running legs.

Thanks, Mom. He’s fantastic!”

I think you’d better take him in to the garden before he gets too excited, Si. What are you going to call him?”

Bosco,” he said, then frowned. “No. Not that! It’s a horrible name. Nemo! That’s what I’m gonna call him.” And with that he rushed out in the garden, trying to teach the puppy his brand new name.

The day was pretty hectic, arranging things in the garden, shopping for party food, baking, making sandwiches. Mark would be taking care of the entertainment. Thankfully the weather seemed to be holding out; a clown would have been a bit of a tight fit indoors together with all the guests.

What was his name? She couldn’t quite remember......Barney? Bardo? No, it was Bosco! What a coincidence that that was the name Simon first thought of for his puppy.

* * * * *

Some of the kids came straight home from school with Simon, all wanting to see his presents, play with his puppy, sneak a few snacks before the party properly began. More and more turned up, their Moms or Dads dropping them at the door, promising to pick them up at six thirty sharp.

Mark and Winona watched as the kids all seemed to be having fun. They only intervened at all if someone was being left out, or if any arguments broke out. Thankfully, it went reasonably smoothly.

A van drew up outside, and Mark peered out of the window. “Yep, that’s him. You go and get them all settled down and I’ll show him through.”

Okay, kids,” Winona shouted. “Come and take a seat! Your entertainment has just arrived!”

Inside the house, Bosco asked to use the bathroom. Mark showed him upstairs, told him where to go. Strange how he seemed to spend a bit of time looking inside Simon’s room, but then, it did have a pretty neat layout.

Bosco danced and tripped his way to stand in front of his assembled audience. He wore a big baggy suit, red and white striped, with a white lacy collar. He had lurid red curly hair and so much face-paint his appearance was bordering on the grotesque. With his over-size shoes and squeaky horn he was every bit the typical clown.

So the jokes and the tricks were pretty lame, nothing outstanding or new, but the kids seemed to be lapping them up – all except Simon. He looked almost as white as the clown himself, and was holding himself tense. His bottom lip kept quivering but he could not drag his eyes away from the stupid man who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying terrifying him.

And where’s the birthday boy?” Bosco shouted, pretending not to know while all the others shouted and pointed.

Simon wanted to disappear but sat on his seat, frozen, silent, as the clown tripped his way towards him. Right at the last moment he fell forward, stopping just in time to be able to whisper in the boy’s ear. “See ya!” he said.

And Simon leaped up from his chair, ran screaming towards his confused parents. The other kids shrugged and carried on towards the huge table of party food. Mark walked Bosco to his van, handing over the money.

Hey, I didn’t mean to up set the kid,” the clown exclaimed.

No problem. Wasn’t your fault.” Mark handed over the agreed payment and waved as the van drew away.

Simon had shut himself in his room with Nemo. He refused to come out, to have any of the party snacks or cake. He even refused to come out to wish his friends good bye.

Do you think he could be getting sick or something?” Winona asked Mark later that evening as they stood beside their now sleeping son.

Could be. Or perhaps it was just over-excitement. We’ll keep an eye on him but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

That night they were not woken by their son’s nightmares. They were downstairs, drinking coffee. Simon was unusually quiet, but Nemo could be heard whimpering, scratching at the bedroom door. Winona went upstairs, let the dog out of the room and turned to her son’s bed. It was empty. Simon was not there. All that was on the pillow was a few strands of red hair and a smudge of white face-paint.

 

 



© Copyright 2018 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Flash Fiction Short Stories

Booksie 2018 Poetry Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by hullabaloo22

Popular Tags