Today’s door was inspired by https://wheatsaltwineoil.wordpress.com/ and is, as Dan Antion would say, a ‘two-fer’. How could I pass on his extension for the TDWC? I am combining with Linda Hill’s #SoCS prompt which is left alone.
The Careless Wisher
“Where are you going?”
her voice trailed.
“Anywhere but here!”
the small boy wailed.
“Be back before lunch,”
Mama called from inside
but he was seeking
somewhere to hide.
No one ever listened,
they didn’t care.
He felt so ignored
by everyone there.
His brothers bossed him around,
his fine treasures always found
by his whining little sister.
His small fists balled up,
tears streaming down his face,
“I want to be left alone,
I know that there’s a place!”
He turned towards the barn
but his father worked in there,
and Granny sat on the porch
in her favorite rocking chair.
The dogs were rolling in the dirt
in the middle of the drive,
and his favorite climbing tree
now housed a buzzing hive.
He stormed across the meadow
and sat against a bale
of pungently golden hay,
unclenched his fists, exhaled.
“I want to be left alone,”
he mumbled
to his shadow on the ground.
“In a place where I can hear myself
and never will be found.”
He looked around.
It seemed there was no escape,
he shook his head.
That’s when he spotted
the paint and brushes by the shed.
Quickly he procured the lot,
then scoured the bale
for the perfect spot.
“Not in front-
they’ll find me quick!”
He circled the bale
eight times to pick.
He dipped the old brush
and sloshed on the paint,
then surveyed his work-
Well an artist I ain’t!”
Still it was a sufficient door-
of sorts.
He dropped the bucket
and tossed the brush
then ran at the door
with a sudden rush
of excitement.
There was no thud
as he expected
and the void of the bale
hungrily accepted
his wish.
He got to his feet,
enjoying the treat
of absolute silence.
When his eyes adjusted
to the minimal light
he was painfully aware
of his awkward new plight.
A simple path led into the dark
where he, alone, must face the stark
unknown.
Maybe the boys weren’t so bad
and his sister, his Mama, Granny and Dad
were now out of reach,
the boy started to screech.
“Help, I’m in here!”
He pounded his fists against the cold straw
that felt more like stone, his palms were raw.
He swiped at the tears
and began to pout,
“I’ll just have to paint
a new door out.”
The hammer of truth
fell without sound.
“I’ve left the paint
and brush on the ground…”
(on the other side)
He looked at his hands,
and the trickles of blood,
he’d need more than that-
it would take a flood,
he wanted to shout!
He took a deep breath,
that careless wisher,
stepped out on the path
and discarded his wrath.
“Maybe I’ll find
another way out.”
With hands in his pockets
he whimpered inside,
“I don’t want to be alone,”
he sniffed and cried
to the nothing that listened
with out a sound
inside his careless wish,
waiting to be found.
Cheryl Pennington
Copyright 2023
