WA #2 1st Draft: Once upon some time

Once upon some time, some place, somewhere, a boy sat in a box. A box the size of a normal house but had no doors and only one window that let in no light. In the box the boy sat in a blank white room staring out into a dark stormy sky. Raindrops tapped at the window whispering little secrets to every corner in the room. The boy sat in an old wooden chair. He rubbed the splintered wood with his little boy fingers. In his mind he dreamt of sunny days with his father and mother, but past his mind a force kept him from his dreams. He could not stand up, he could not move. A single light occupied his mind and all he could do was dream his little penny sized dreams.

Sitting upon the windowsill was a small potted daisy with petals the size of an infant’s fingernail. The white petals sat there in a group laughing at the boy sitting all alone. Every minute that went by a petal fell to the ground and smoldered to an ash from the burning sorrows oozing from the floors. Another petal replaces the last one singing the same taunting song to the lonely boy.

Oh little boy,

Where are they?

Where could they be?

No one but you,

Dreams the dreams,

The devil dreams too.

The song went with the beat of the raindrops and the maddening tone of the room drove the little boy crazy. Left alone in this cage, like a beast, like a murderer. The white ceiling closed down on him and the dark melodies poisoned his troubled mind, trying to reach for the window but nothing moved. He looked down at his feet and his shoes took shape of a mouth, “Dream you a dead dream!” one foot cried, “Kill like he killed them!” moaned the other. His fingers ripped from his hands flying to the shadows but finding none. Frightened fingers searched for shelter and took to the petals. A daisy with fingers as petals grabbed for the soul of the boy. It reached into his head and felt around the burnt crusty memories. Every time a finger reached further for a dream the burnt memories fell into the hole where his heart used to be. He looked into his own eyes and saw the devil looking right back.

In the boy’s soul, that was in his heart that was on the floor that was in this blank white box was a little angel beating tired wings. The angel reached for a small hole in the boy’s soul and took flight. He broke out and tore for the sky but met a ceiling oozing a burning sorrow and drop to the floor in a million ashes.

The petals stopped singing and the rain stopped beating. Through a crack made by the dead angel sunlight crept through and met the boy’s face. He opened his eyes and reached for the light. It grabbed him pulling him out of his blank white box and for the first time he knew what it felt like to be free.