The Bird and the Map
The Falling Orphan
Losing your parents is hard no matter what way you look at it, and it’s particularly hard on a kid who never wants to grow up. Being a young boy is also tough, but Peter tried to make the best of it. He had wild adventures of chasing the black-winged man through the woods behind his house… back when it was still his house.
He still goes there from time to time, but only stays across the road, squatting in between two bushes that were rarely trimmed these days because old Mrs. Jones had recently had two wrist surgeries that were unsuccessful and actually kind of ended badly due to her not having much function of her hands anymore. Her daughter came over to help for a while, but must have lost interest of helping her poor old mother, caught up in her own adult life happenings. Peter thought she was ugly.
Watching strangers walking around inside of what used to be his house -- his home, shelter, and safe-haven -- was strange to Peter. He always got this feeling deep down in his stomach that told him he was hungry.
There was one thing that made him smile his big, boyish grin, and that was that the kids never ventured too close to the woods that used to be Peter’s playground. He guessed that their parents had told them not to -- Peter thought their parents looked like people with lots of rules and probably even long lists of chores. He shivered at the thought and briefly squinted his eyes and puckered his lips like he’d tasted something really sour like the War Heads his mom used to buy him. The best thing about War Heads, he thought, was that after the shocking sour, came a refreshing sweetness. He liked to think a lot about War Heads being a lot like life in bunches of ways.
The second option as to why the kids never went near the woods was because they were scared. He never really fully understood or comprehended why so many people seemed to be scared of so many things. Surely, Peter thought, there isn’t all that much evil in the world that it is literally around every corner, waiting to jump out and grab those who wander around it.
He shook his head and stood up while backing out of the bushes. He never kept track of time while he was there, but then again, time had never meant very much to him. Actually, he had his own philosophy about time and that was that with all the time people waste concentrating on time, they could be doing something much more productive with their lives.
It was almost dark out. The sun was just saying goodbye to the sky as it slowly made its way behind the horizon. Peter had always felt the urgent need to find a place to sleep and take shelter before the darkness once again sucked the light out of the world. He wasn’t quite sure why because he wasn’t scared of anything, but he felt comforted by being in a tight little space while the sun was away.
Since today was Wednesday, Peter knew that the Walgreens just off Sycamore Avenue would have gotten shipments in and would therefore have empty boxes shoved on top of all the expired items in their dumpster out back. He made his way there quickly, jumped up to grab the biggest folded box he could, then took a few quick glances around to make sure no one had spotted him, and made a quick jolt for the side alley where he spent most Wednesday nights.
Sometimes there are other people that take rest in the same alley, but Peter has never met or seen any other kids even close to his age. He guessed that was mostly because most kids went into the system if anything happened to their parents, but not Peter. He ran away before the cops had even gotten to his house after the accident.
Of course, he had to lay low because his picture had been everywhere for a while, newscasters painting dreadful stories with their words about a family tragically being torn apart because of this accident and the saddest part was that the poor boy had yet to be found and if anyone had any information, please call the number below. Peter hated all the attention. He wanted to just go back to being a kid that didn’t have to worry about finding a tight space to escape the night.
Just as the last of the light tucked itself away behind the trees, Peter had set up his box as best he could and crawled inside. As he laid his head down, expecting his cheek to meet the cardboard bottom, cooled by the night’s breath, it just kept going until his body slipped off the edge and he was falling.
He still goes there from time to time, but only stays across the road, squatting in between two bushes that were rarely trimmed these days because old Mrs. Jones had recently had two wrist surgeries that were unsuccessful and actually kind of ended badly due to her not having much function of her hands anymore. Her daughter came over to help for a while, but must have lost interest of helping her poor old mother, caught up in her own adult life happenings. Peter thought she was ugly.
Watching strangers walking around inside of what used to be his house -- his home, shelter, and safe-haven -- was strange to Peter. He always got this feeling deep down in his stomach that told him he was hungry.
There was one thing that made him smile his big, boyish grin, and that was that the kids never ventured too close to the woods that used to be Peter’s playground. He guessed that their parents had told them not to -- Peter thought their parents looked like people with lots of rules and probably even long lists of chores. He shivered at the thought and briefly squinted his eyes and puckered his lips like he’d tasted something really sour like the War Heads his mom used to buy him. The best thing about War Heads, he thought, was that after the shocking sour, came a refreshing sweetness. He liked to think a lot about War Heads being a lot like life in bunches of ways.
The second option as to why the kids never went near the woods was because they were scared. He never really fully understood or comprehended why so many people seemed to be scared of so many things. Surely, Peter thought, there isn’t all that much evil in the world that it is literally around every corner, waiting to jump out and grab those who wander around it.
He shook his head and stood up while backing out of the bushes. He never kept track of time while he was there, but then again, time had never meant very much to him. Actually, he had his own philosophy about time and that was that with all the time people waste concentrating on time, they could be doing something much more productive with their lives.
It was almost dark out. The sun was just saying goodbye to the sky as it slowly made its way behind the horizon. Peter had always felt the urgent need to find a place to sleep and take shelter before the darkness once again sucked the light out of the world. He wasn’t quite sure why because he wasn’t scared of anything, but he felt comforted by being in a tight little space while the sun was away.
Since today was Wednesday, Peter knew that the Walgreens just off Sycamore Avenue would have gotten shipments in and would therefore have empty boxes shoved on top of all the expired items in their dumpster out back. He made his way there quickly, jumped up to grab the biggest folded box he could, then took a few quick glances around to make sure no one had spotted him, and made a quick jolt for the side alley where he spent most Wednesday nights.
Sometimes there are other people that take rest in the same alley, but Peter has never met or seen any other kids even close to his age. He guessed that was mostly because most kids went into the system if anything happened to their parents, but not Peter. He ran away before the cops had even gotten to his house after the accident.
Of course, he had to lay low because his picture had been everywhere for a while, newscasters painting dreadful stories with their words about a family tragically being torn apart because of this accident and the saddest part was that the poor boy had yet to be found and if anyone had any information, please call the number below. Peter hated all the attention. He wanted to just go back to being a kid that didn’t have to worry about finding a tight space to escape the night.
Just as the last of the light tucked itself away behind the trees, Peter had set up his box as best he could and crawled inside. As he laid his head down, expecting his cheek to meet the cardboard bottom, cooled by the night’s breath, it just kept going until his body slipped off the edge and he was falling.