Thing missed being back at the cave. It was the one place that he
knew his Mother and Father would eventually return. He had given up waiting on
them and had struck out to see what was at the end of the world.
Thing wouldn't be gone forever, all he had to do was reach the horizon and then come home. That was his plan and it was simple.
As he left town, he
walked passed his school where he had some good days and more bad days. He
turned the corner and watched as the cafe where he would hide on the bad days
disappeared into the distance.
There had been friends and
enemies, and like his school days there had been more bad than good ones. But
don’t think that all of this had got Thing down. He believed and continued to
believe that he was on the Earth for a purpose and who was he to disagree?
Quicker than he had
expected, the town faded into the background and the dirt country road opened
up ahead of him. Thing had thought he might meet folks along the way but he had
met no one. If the truth be told, dear readers, the ones who had seen him had
taken other roads, not wanting to meet this freak on their own. Not that Thing
noticed any of this because a heart that believes they have a purpose in
existing never see anything but goodness in others.
After several long hours on
the road, it was getting dark. Thing had never been out this late, as he’d
always stuck to his Mother’s instructions of being in his bed before sundown.
On the longs days he had waited for his Mother to return, he was always settled
in his bed by disk, just in case she came home and found him going against her
rules.
There had been a slight
hope in his heart that he would meet his Mother on her way back to the cave to
once again, take care of her son. But the road was as empty as ever.
Day became dusk, and dusk
became the darkness. Thing had found out too late that he was not able to see
well in the dark of the open road, even although he could navigate his way
around the cave.
When he could no longer see
where he was walking, Thing chose a small area of grass underneath a tree. He
was tired and ready to close his eyes to the night.
Thing hadn’t been sleeping
long when woken by the sound of someone or something snoring.
“Hello?” He shouted out
into the night. “Anyone there?”
And that was when the
snoring stopped and a voice called back.
“Over here,” said the
voice.
“Where?”
“I’ll sing a song and you
follow my voice,” said someone or something in the distance.
Thing followed the really
bad singing and nearly tripped over the source of the song.
“Careful,” said the singer.
“Sit down here beside me, the others will be along soon.”
In the darkness the two of
them talked about why they were in the forest and where they were heading.
Thing told the voice that he was walking to the horizon and then coming home
again. That since his Mother and Father had gone, he had stood every night at
the cave entrance watching for them to come home.
The voice was in the
forest, along with his friends because they too, had been left orphaned.
“No, I’m not an orphan,”
said Thing. “They will return one day.”
“Sure they will,” said his
friend but not very convincingly.
It was just then that the
rest of the gang returned. They had been out hunting for food. They worked in
the pitch black so as not to attract attention from those who would stop them
getting food.
They gang had stolen meat
from a farm a short distance from the river and had collected berries and
fruits that they found.
They told Thing that he was
welcome to share their wares on one condition, and that was that he told them a
story to make them laugh or cry.
After their meal and in the
pitch darkness, Thing thanked them for the food and then told them of his life.
The way the friends at school had hurt and bullied him because they felt that
he was different.
“You’re just like us,” said
another voice. “We are all outsiders, and we are all a family. You should join
us.”
Thing felt that perhaps he
just might, then decided that he wanted to see the horizon before he settled
down, and that if they weren’t going that way, then he’d continue on alone.
One of the voices said he
was cold with the night dew and Thing said that if they all bunched up beside
Thing, they could all keep warm.
And it worked and for the
first night in many, Thing wasn’t alone and for the first time in his life he
had a gang of friends.
Thing slept well that
night, and dreamed that he was in his Mother’s arms.
When the sun came up the
gang of orphans were standing over him, pointing their wooden spears at him.
“What have you done with
our friend?” Shouted one at the back.
“He must have eaten him,
the monster has eaten him,” said another.
Thing wasn’t sure what had
happened. In front of him were a group of kids, the same type that had gone to
his school.
“Let’s take him prisoner
and sell him,” said another. Thing found an energy that he’d never known before
and was suddenly running through the forest: no looking back.
The orphans chased him for a
mile or two, but Thing just kept on running - running towards the horizon and
away from a group of people who had only liked him when they knew him in the
pitch black.
And Thing couldn’t
understand why that made a difference.
bobby stevenson 2014
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