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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

every child enjoys the feel of nature, from the smell of the atmosphere, the feel of the grass to to sand that escapes between your finger tips and almost every child has had this experience, that is, except 8 years old jeremy. jeremy is left inside

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, Where have you gone?"


"Papa, I'm looking out the window.”

“What are you waiting for? Get out of there!”


Mark, his father, rushed down the stairs and grabbed him. He clutched him tightly, rubbing his ruffled black hair.


"Didn't I tell you? Never go by the window or the doors. Are you insane, Jeremy? Don't go near the windows again," his father, warned sternly.

As the tears streamed down Jeremy's chubby cheeks, he couldn't stop from crying.


Then there was a knock on the door. Hide, Jeremy, hide, Mark yelled. Jeremy started running in all directions, glance his little eyes over the coffee table in the corner of the living room until he made it his hiding place.

As the chandelier hung over the dining table, the flat screen television stood against the painted yellow wall.

There was complete silence throughout. Jeremy remained silent, looking around frantically from his hiding place.


Then he heard heavy footsteps and the creaking sound of a door closing and opening. With terror, his eyes popped open wide. He listened to the sound vanished into thin air. Everything had returned to normal.


He crawled out from under the wooden coffee table and frantically looked around the room. He was startled to hear the same noise again. He remained motionless, straining his ears in the direction of the noise. He jumped from his stance and began to run down the stairs, unbalanced he fell down the stairs bursting his upper lip. As he struggled to get up, he began to cry.

As he turned his head back to the left, a cold hand reached out and grabbed his hand. His eyes could have almost popped out of place, when he looked up; he realized it was his father. Shocked, he said, Papa, as he stammered softly, then, took a deep breath with watery eyes. His father radiance smile had morphed into fury rage. “What were you up to, son?” His father reacted angrily."


His mind raced with images of him and his father not allowing him to enjoy himself as a child would. He wished he could go outside and run around like a little boy.


He took a deep breath as he realized this was going to be his last straw.


He would never let anyone ruin his life again. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a needle, took another deep breath, and then whacked his papa repeatedly with it.

 His hand was quickly released, and he made his way to the door. As he started running towards the door, he bumped into the wall. A few hours after, he sat up, rubbed his brow, and realized he was still in his bed. Was this a nightmare? He wondered.

Submitted: October 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Lady Nicole. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


olive tree

Nicely written

Maybe he should listen to his subconscious and actually follow through with the act - perhaps he’d be better off - the damage already done notwithstanding.

Sun, October 17th, 2021 5:26am


Thank you Olive for your response.

Sun, October 17th, 2021 1:39am


You have an interesting story line going. I felt that the story needs to be tighter to draw the reader into the action. Hiding male children has been a necessity during many wars and this is what I thought you were writing about at first with the POV of the child. Using a coffee table as a hiding place didn't fit with this idea. Also, you left a few issues unattended. Why would he be upstairs? A coffee table would be in the living room which would be downstairs. Wouldn't his father have been concerned with caring for a busted lip? What made him decide now to defy the order to stay indoors? Don't give up, you have a good story started.

Sun, October 17th, 2021 2:18pm


Thank you for your feedback. Appreciate it.

Sun, October 17th, 2021 9:14am

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