the childish mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
just read the story, it is very short

Submitted: April 22, 2016

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Submitted: April 22, 2016

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I could not breathe. The last thing I saw before I faded out was him.

„Lorraine darling, breakfast is ready! “ I heard my grandmother shout.

I dallied down the stairs and smelled the delicious blueberry pancakes my grandmother makes me every Sunday. She has done that for the past seven years in substitute of my mother who died when I was four. She was driving on a rainy morning and the road was very slippery. That was just the day she was diagnosed with cancer which killed her two weeks later. I do not have many memories of my mother, only her delicious pancakes, that is the reason why my grandmother always makes them every Sunday. I do not live with my father because he is very famous and does not have any time for me. I can always see him on the telly in his movies. His name is Humphrey Bogart and is very selfish and rich.
So as I said, I have lived with my grandmother since my mother died. We are namelings, so her name is also Lorraine. My grandmother is very rich. We live together in an enormous house that the whole clan, the Mayfield clan, has lived in through the last generations. A big sign stands in front of the house that says: MAYFIELD. The house was built in 1840, we celebrated its 100th birthday last year with a big barbecue where all the people in the neighborhood came in. Mayfield is white with countless large arch windows, I tried to count them when I learned to count to hundred but I lost the number when I got to 62. The roof is all decorated on the inside with pictures of all kinds of people, even naked people. I have never understood that kind of art. If I would have painted the roof I would paint beautiful dresses in all the rainbows’ colors on every single person. On the outside, the roof is only covered with boring, dung-brown tiles, no beautiful colors. It also has a dung-brown, spacious terrace with high, white pillars that give the house a very royal look. The house is so large that I am not even sure if I have seen all of it, I am convinced that it has a secret room and I am going to find it one day.
The garden is my favorite place to be. It is all covered in many kinds of flowers I do not remember the names of. The garden leads to a big, beautiful forest. Every morning I can hear the birds in it sing. The trees are big and old and fun to climb in, but my grandmother has always banned me from doing such things, she says that I do not have the strength to hold myself up there and therefore would fall easily and injure myself, but I doubt that.
Because I am not allowed to climb, a swing was stuck up in one of the trees, in the largest oak. I only swing in it when the weather is good, otherwise, bad things will happen. There is also a very green plant that crawls up the house. It crawls up a tower with conical roof, I like to call it the princess tower. The princess tower is the place Aunt Pockets lives in. She is my good old Bunbury I have known since I was born. She is always wearing a big blue nurse dress with 17 pockets, each for one specific feeling. When I get mad, I just visit Aunt Pockets and get my happy feelings back and sort the bad feelings in her pockets and keep them there. She is a good lady.
I, my grandmother and Aunt Pockets are not the only people living in this colossal house. My grandfather and my grandmother’s brother also live with us. My grandfather is in a wheelchair because he got shot badly in the left leg in the First World War and the leg had to be removed. He is a tough man. He often tells me that I am not his granddaughter. I think he says so only because I am not as tough as him, he only says that I am not tough because I am afraid of geese, they have this strange gaze that makes me very uncomfortable.
My grandmother’s brother, Billy, is mentally retarded and has followed her all his life. I adore him. He always wants to play with me, because he is, like my grandmother says, 11 on the inside but 68 on the outside. He can be a bit blithering sometimes, but that is understandable because he is different. He needs a lot of help and therefore he has never been able to live on his own. He is very strong indeed, once he broke a door when he was just knocking on it. He is always wearing a red hat and drools sometimes, but I accept him the way he is.
I almost forgot to tell you about Mr. Darcy. He is very red-haired and very fat, old and lazy. He is also nearly deaf and twice as old as me, but still, I am wiser than him. He is, in fact, a cat who has lived with us since he was born. All he does is stumble around the house meowing because he cannot hear himself. I feel sorry for him but he does not know any better.
I, grandmother, grandfather, Billy and Mr. Darcy sat together at the breakfast table and guttled the pancakes like we had no time to lose. They tasted so delicious. If I could choose my own heaven there would rain these blueberry pancakes in it. This day was a beautiful summer Sunday morning and the sun shone through the windows so even more big arch windows formed on the floor, even bigger than the real ones. After the breakfast, I went to the bathroom because I am always on the brink of peeing myself, and I pee like a horse. I even wet the bed the other night, but I have not told anyone about it, except Aunt Pockets. After my marvelous bathroom trip, I went in the garden to swing in the oak. I had to use this wonderful weather to take a good swing. Countless butterflies flew in the garden and the smell of the flowers filled my nose. I was still in my nightdress and barefooted so my toes tickled in the grass. The nightdress stroke the ground as I swung up and down. I was deep into humming my own songs when the postman came with the newspaper. He is black and to my surprise, he is very nice. My grandpa always says that black people are rude and mean and forbids me to talk to them, but I like the postman. He always offers a good day and asks how I am doing, and he is always smiling. He also walks kind of funny, he is very splay feet and lifts his legs high in each step.
When I had swung and hummed for a while I heard some noise from the inside of the house. I walked into the kitchen and saw a broken plate on the floor and Billy stood over it.

“Oh god, Billy! When are you going to learn to hold things properly?” my grandfather yelled.

“Billy broke the plate, whoopsadaisy” Billy looked sadly at the broken glass on the floor.

“Wilfred, don’t rebuke him so much, it was just a little accident, and the plate already had a small crack in it.” Grandmother said.

“Lorraine, it is not like this is the first time he breaks something. When I was in the army, I was-“

“Yes, I know, you were punished right away when you did a mistake, but Wilfred, Billy is not you and he is not in the army.” Grandmother said.

I decided to interrupt this bothersome conversation.

“The newspaper is here, the nice black man brought it a moment ago,” I said.

“If a black man, or an Italian one, steps one food in this house, I will shoot him,” grandfather said.

“Please tell me, with what gun?” grandmother grinned, raised her eyebrows and looked at him over her glasses.

Billy and I laughed but grandfather was completely silent. My grandmother has quite a keen tongue, and trust me, this was not the first time she makes grandfather speechless. Grandmother started cleaning off the table and grandpa went into the living room to think about how he will manage to answer her. Billy and I went outside and I continued to swing with Billy’s help. It is so fun to let him push me because that way, I go both higher and faster. After a couple of pushes, Billy noticed a butterfly on the fence and started chasing it. He does that a lot but sometimes he crushes them, but he always thinks that they are asleep and puts them carefully in a box that he keeps in his room.
I was so exhausted after all the swinging so I picked up Mr. Darcy and patted him for a while. He was still so soft in spite of his age, but boy how heavy he was. It was like he did not eat pancakes for breakfast but stones instead. We sat on the terrace in the sun and suddenly Mr. Darcy stumbled away from me. He has never been much into being patted, he is more into meowing and being lost. On the moment Mr. Darcy walked away, a man walked past the house. I could not believe my own eyes, it was my own father, Humphrey Bogart. He was wearing a strange suit. But that is how famous people dress, right?

“Father, father! It’s me, Lorraine!” I shouted at him.

He stopped and looked at me, but then kept on walking. I shouted at him again but that made him walk even faster. I stood up and was going to run to him but grandmother came out and stopped me.

“Lorraine, don’t shout at this young man!” grandmother scolded me.

“But it was my father, it was Humphrey Bogart, grandmother” I replied.

“No dear, this was not your father, he is not here, I can promise you that, come inside Lorraine.” Grandmother held my shoulders and looked me deep in the eyes.

Billy was inside playing with his dead butterflies when I got inside. I think butterflies are quite ugly if you only look at their body, it is only the wings that people notice about them. Billy, on the other hand, thinks they are very beautiful. He likes to pat their tiny, hairy body.

“Lorraine?” Billy said.

“Yes, Billy?” I replied.

“Guess what I saw earlier, “ he whispered.

“I am not good at guessing, Billy, tell me what you saw,” I said

“A goose” he fixed his hat.

“Billy, like I have told you before, I don’t-“

“It was asleep.” He said.

I know that when Billy says that some animal is asleep, it is dead for real.

“Oh, where was it?” I asked.

“I’ll show you” He whispered

He walked behind the house in the high-grown grass and I followed him. It was exhausting walking in all this grass. It had not been mowed for months because no one can see this part of the lawn easily. Billy stopped by one of the corners of the house and pointed towards a big goose that lay on the ground. It seemed like it was not breathing and its eyes were closed. I sneaked quietly towards it and reached my hand to its womb and touched it with my fingertips. At the exactly same split second, it suddenly winched and opened its eyes and I faced my worst fear of all. The gaze was terrifying. The goose jumped up and started pecking Billy and I. It screamed and threatened us with its massive wings. Seven more geese appeared from nowhere and surrounded us. I completely froze but Billy screamed so high, I had never heard anything like that. He screamed and waved his hands and ran as fast as he could in circles around me. The geese freaked out, flew away terrified and never came back. Billy and I went inside shocked. I was convinced that this was my moment of death.
The first thing I did when I came inside was to urinate. My bladder filled quickly in this life-threatening situation. I put my bathrobe and slippers on, turned on the telly and watched Mickey Mouse to forget reality for a moment. My grandfather says that I am too old to watch Mickey Mouse but I think he is too old to know what a telly is, so I do not take him seriously. I fell asleep in the living room and before I knew, the evening was near. I went up to Aunt Pockets and sorted my bad feelings out and got my good feelings back. I told her about the goose attack and that made me feel way better.
In the eventide, I decided to take a walk in the woods and look for Mr. Darcy. He had not come home since I patted him in the morning and I was a little worried about him. The sky was yellow nearest to the falling sun and it faded to pink and the pink faded to blue. It was getting chilly so my bathrobe was not warm enough and my toes were getting cold in the slippers. I was about to return home when suddenly I could hear Mr. Darcy’s noisy meow not so far away. It started to rain and my bathrobe got soaked immediately. Never have I ever liked being outside in the rain, I am not a pluviophile like Billy. When it rains, I always feel like god is having endless diarrhea over me. And now the drops were getting bigger.
The grass decreased with each step and before I knew I was standing in mud that was high up to the knees. It was incredibly hard to move and I got exhausted in a short time. All of a sudden the mud started moving higher up the leg. It was cold and wet and I felt like the earth was swallowing me. The mud was like the earth’s tongue that wrapped itself around my torso. Now I was the blueberry pancake and the earth was guttling me. I screamed and managed to grab an oak branch but I could not pull myself. I was completely stuck and my hands were wet and slippery. Eventually, the branch broke off and the earth swallowed me deeper. I could not breathe. The last thing I saw before I faded out was Mr. Darcy.
I woke up and Aunt Pockets sat beside me. We were not in the princess tower, as usual. I could tell because the roof was different. It was not conical but horizontal. Still, there were white arch windows like usually. I looked around the room and did not recognize it at all. It was all white and silent, like some kind of hospital.

“Good morning, my dear Lorraine,” Aunt Pockets smiled.

“Where are we? And what happened?” I asked.

“You are still in Mayfield, Lorraine. Billy saw you walking inside the woods so he followed you. He saw you sinking in the mud, got a hold on your finger and pulled you up.” Aunt Pockets said calm.

“Why was I in the woods? And where am I now?“ I asked Aunt Pockets.

“I was going to ask you the same Lorraine darling, but it doesn’t matter now, you are safe and you were just moved to the fifth ward. We will take good care of you here Lorraine” Aunt Pockets replied.

“What do you mean the fifth ward? What wards are you talking about? This is my home.”

Aunt Pockets looked me in the eyes and stroke my hair.

“Oh, my dear Lorraine.” Her gaze changed.

I had not a single idea about what she was talking about. I looked around this unfamiliar room and noticed a mirror on the wall on the other side of the bed. I stared into my own eyes, through my own eyes in the mirror, but the face I saw was not my own face. All I saw was an old woman with thin, gray hair and wrinkled skin. I stroke my cheek and felt how authentic the wrinkles were. I noticed a bracelet on my arm in the mirror and looked at my own arm. The bracelet was marked: Mayfield nursing home. What had happened to me? Was I not eleven anymore? Never had I ever been as confused. Maybe I had, I do not remember.


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