Sweet Dreams.
Chapter three Childhood nightmares.
The days past by where he felt being at school was a nightmare but a dream; the torment of the children but also, the love of his teacher.
Lunch time was one of the times he dreaded each day. He didn’t come from a very wealthy family and the inherited money from his parents was put in a safe place for their son when he grew older. He lived off his Grandmother’s pension, which really wasn’t a lot. Everyday she’d wake up early to make her grandsons’ lunch but she’d also be waking up to half-empty cupboards and thread-bare shelves. She could only afford basic amounts of food. She made him some sandwiches added a couple of biscuits and a drink. That would have to do for today.
Here we are again, he thought. He sat down, always avoiding everyone else.
He sighed as he looked at the contents of his lunch box. He kept his eyes down and to himself, not wanting anyone to notice him and burst out with a chorus of Lullabies. He started picking at the food, nibbling at little bits. He could hear some other kids whispering near him and it made him uneasy.
He kept telling himself that it wasn’t him they were whispering about, but deep down; he knew it was him. It would always be him. He’d be teased and mocked for the slightest of things, and he could never do anything about it, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t sit back forever. He couldn’t take it all in and swallow. However, now wasn’t the time to react. He’d only turn his teacher against him. So he sat there, just ignoring everyone else, keeping his thoughts to himself.
A person loomed over him, casting a shadow on the table where his gaze was. He turned round swiftly to see a boy in his class, and two other behind him. He stood up to the boy’s level and stared him in the eyes.
“What’s that, Lullaby?” the boy said, using the name they all teased him with. He didn’t reply. The other boy just looked into his eyes. Then down at his lunchbox. All three of them started laughing. He knew what they were laughing at. The bread he ate looked about 2 weeks old and the biscuits his Grandmother bought hardly contained any sugar. To the other kids, he must have looked Amish; another reason for him to get bullied. The truth was, he couldn’t afford much food and he lived off a diet without massive amounts of sugar. He didn’t feel a need for daily doses like most children. He didn’t crave sweets and chocolate. He was fine with what he was given, but somehow they weren’t.
“Ewww” one of them squeaked. Soon a few more people joined in their disgust. Some started singing new lullabies about how he had horrible discoloured food. Others just happily ate their own lunch. He sat back down, and didn’t make eye contact with anyone. He just stared down at his lunch, suddenly realising he hated it. This was another thing that set him apart from everyone else. His eyes started filling up but he didn’t cry. Still, he sat staring hard at his lunch. More and more children started to fade away, not amused by the reaction he was giving. They wanted to see him strike out, see him get angry. The original bullies still teased him and soon he had enough. He stood up, picked up his lunch and ran. He ran into a deserted corner in the playground, under the shade of the trees. The other children didn’t bother following him here. He looked down at his lunch box again; he feebly picked up his half-eaten sandwich and put it to his lips. A single tear rolled down his cheek and dropped onto it. He tried to eat some more but the already awful taste was tainted by his tears as they spilled from his eyes, this was the first time any of his classmates had seen him get affected by sadness or grief, and they liked it. Now, he didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
Lunch time was one of the times he dreaded each day. He didn’t come from a very wealthy family and the inherited money from his parents was put in a safe place for their son when he grew older. He lived off his Grandmother’s pension, which really wasn’t a lot. Everyday she’d wake up early to make her grandsons’ lunch but she’d also be waking up to half-empty cupboards and thread-bare shelves. She could only afford basic amounts of food. She made him some sandwiches added a couple of biscuits and a drink. That would have to do for today.
Here we are again, he thought. He sat down, always avoiding everyone else.
He sighed as he looked at the contents of his lunch box. He kept his eyes down and to himself, not wanting anyone to notice him and burst out with a chorus of Lullabies. He started picking at the food, nibbling at little bits. He could hear some other kids whispering near him and it made him uneasy.
He kept telling himself that it wasn’t him they were whispering about, but deep down; he knew it was him. It would always be him. He’d be teased and mocked for the slightest of things, and he could never do anything about it, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t sit back forever. He couldn’t take it all in and swallow. However, now wasn’t the time to react. He’d only turn his teacher against him. So he sat there, just ignoring everyone else, keeping his thoughts to himself.
A person loomed over him, casting a shadow on the table where his gaze was. He turned round swiftly to see a boy in his class, and two other behind him. He stood up to the boy’s level and stared him in the eyes.
“What’s that, Lullaby?” the boy said, using the name they all teased him with. He didn’t reply. The other boy just looked into his eyes. Then down at his lunchbox. All three of them started laughing. He knew what they were laughing at. The bread he ate looked about 2 weeks old and the biscuits his Grandmother bought hardly contained any sugar. To the other kids, he must have looked Amish; another reason for him to get bullied. The truth was, he couldn’t afford much food and he lived off a diet without massive amounts of sugar. He didn’t feel a need for daily doses like most children. He didn’t crave sweets and chocolate. He was fine with what he was given, but somehow they weren’t.
“Ewww” one of them squeaked. Soon a few more people joined in their disgust. Some started singing new lullabies about how he had horrible discoloured food. Others just happily ate their own lunch. He sat back down, and didn’t make eye contact with anyone. He just stared down at his lunch, suddenly realising he hated it. This was another thing that set him apart from everyone else. His eyes started filling up but he didn’t cry. Still, he sat staring hard at his lunch. More and more children started to fade away, not amused by the reaction he was giving. They wanted to see him strike out, see him get angry. The original bullies still teased him and soon he had enough. He stood up, picked up his lunch and ran. He ran into a deserted corner in the playground, under the shade of the trees. The other children didn’t bother following him here. He looked down at his lunch box again; he feebly picked up his half-eaten sandwich and put it to his lips. A single tear rolled down his cheek and dropped onto it. He tried to eat some more but the already awful taste was tainted by his tears as they spilled from his eyes, this was the first time any of his classmates had seen him get affected by sadness or grief, and they liked it. Now, he didn’t feel so hungry anymore.