Prompt #7
There's a haunted house across the street from the elementary school.
The teachers say it's not haunted, but the kids know different. There's gossip all around Daniel on the first day of school; the fifth graders brag and smirk about how they've already been inside. Some of them share their ghost stories, even.
Daniel is shy. He's always shy.
~*~
There are six of them, first grade all, who hesitate at the path through the backyard to the house. A gang - the only word for it - of older students taunt them.
"You chicken?" calls one. "Bok bok bok!"
- it won't be until years later that Daniel understands that this doesn't mean anything. He doesn't, now.
He runs.
~*~
His mother wipes his tears away, and says reassuring things that Daniel doesn't remember, a few minutes later, alone in his room.
He doesn't get it. They seem to understand, they seem to speak a language that he can't even hear. Why isn't he more like them?
~*~
Dance practice - he's in his third year, now. The best in the class, boy or girl.
"You are so talented," says his teacher - "I'd like you to try out for a show that's going on stage in Denver. Now, it's a big deal, so I want you to make me proud, okay?"
Daniel, fingers in his mouth, terrified and proud and exhausted from the lesson, nods. His eyes are wide.
~*~
Backstage, first production, Daniel sees one of the older students. Someone who taunted him, bullied him.
The boy points his finger at Daniel - "See, Dad? I told you it was him!"
His father shushes him, glancing around for some backstage personnel.
"You were really out there! And everyone was watching."
Daniel realizes, now, that the boy's tone isn't of ridicule, but respect. Daniel feigns unconcern - "Yeah," he says.
"Wow," says the boy. "Wow."
~*~
Daniel rings the doorbell of the haunted house. There's no answer; there's not even a chime.
He saunters away without fear.
He doesn't have to speak the world's language. The world will speak his.
The teachers say it's not haunted, but the kids know different. There's gossip all around Daniel on the first day of school; the fifth graders brag and smirk about how they've already been inside. Some of them share their ghost stories, even.
Daniel is shy. He's always shy.
~*~
There are six of them, first grade all, who hesitate at the path through the backyard to the house. A gang - the only word for it - of older students taunt them.
"You chicken?" calls one. "Bok bok bok!"
- it won't be until years later that Daniel understands that this doesn't mean anything. He doesn't, now.
He runs.
~*~
His mother wipes his tears away, and says reassuring things that Daniel doesn't remember, a few minutes later, alone in his room.
He doesn't get it. They seem to understand, they seem to speak a language that he can't even hear. Why isn't he more like them?
~*~
Dance practice - he's in his third year, now. The best in the class, boy or girl.
"You are so talented," says his teacher - "I'd like you to try out for a show that's going on stage in Denver. Now, it's a big deal, so I want you to make me proud, okay?"
Daniel, fingers in his mouth, terrified and proud and exhausted from the lesson, nods. His eyes are wide.
~*~
Backstage, first production, Daniel sees one of the older students. Someone who taunted him, bullied him.
The boy points his finger at Daniel - "See, Dad? I told you it was him!"
His father shushes him, glancing around for some backstage personnel.
"You were really out there! And everyone was watching."
Daniel realizes, now, that the boy's tone isn't of ridicule, but respect. Daniel feigns unconcern - "Yeah," he says.
"Wow," says the boy. "Wow."
~*~
Daniel rings the doorbell of the haunted house. There's no answer; there's not even a chime.
He saunters away without fear.
He doesn't have to speak the world's language. The world will speak his.