Random Short Story: [Not Home]
The first thing to come to him was noise. A horrible, ominous buzzing, like countless swarms of bees racing past in succession. With the sounds came the feel of oven-warmth beneath him; hard and somewhat sticky ground, bumpy and cracked. And then, the smell. An awful, acrid scent that burned to take in; it was like burnt toast and bad eggs together, still warm, and it refreshed itself every time those angry-sounding bee swarms rushed by.
He tried to sit up, but he couldn't. His legs had sprawled out before him somehow and his joints wouldn't be moved; he must have fallen hard.
Those bees kept coming and going, and yet they ignored him. One particularly loud set roared past--or maybe this was a dog, a really big one. The sound was barklike, he decided. But no dog he'd ever seen could go that fast. Just like the rest, it raced toward and away from him, intent on going somewhere.
Again, he tried to push himself up. Again, he failed. At last, he stared straight ahead of him, finding an expanse of blue sky dotted with scattered, stretched out white clouds. He could see the sun on the edge of his view, but it was impossible to say the time of day since he couldn't begin to guess the way in which he lay. There were more of those bees engaging in their race around him, pausing at weird intervals.
Unable to move, he let his thoughts turn to Jenny. He wondered if she was all right; she could scarcely bear to be away from him for long. They went everywhere together. She had to've noticed he was missing. She was probably trying to find him now. Best if he just waited here, then. He remembered Jenny always saying that if she got lost, she'd stay in the same place so that somebody could find her. So that's just what he would do.
So he waited, listening to the bee swarms, and dogs, and trying not to smell that horrible smell that they brought with them each time they went by. Sometimes he watched the sun move, but it did so slowly. Eventually, it made its way to the other side of the sky, and started to disappear from his field of vision. The sky was turning pink, and the clouds were citrus-colored now. It made him think a little of Jenny; she had grapefruit for breakfast sometimes, with a lot of sugar sprinkled on top of it. There was a time she spilled the sugary-juice on him; she apologized for days after, but she told him he smelled really sweet then.
It must be getting late, if the sky was turning grapefruit colored. Where was she?
The terrible smell was stronger than ever now, but the bees and dogs seemed to have stopped whirring by. He heard footsteps; then there was a small, dark face looming over his view, covering the sky.
"Mom, look!" the boy crowed and seized his arm, dragging him off the ground so suddenly he thought his arm might pop straight out. His view swam with colors in a blur as his world shook in the rough child's hand. Jenny never whipped him around so cruelly. He was missing her more than ever now.
"Brandon, put that down! You don't pick things up off the street; you don't know where that's been!"
"But Mom--"
"Now."
His world sunk; he collided with the street again and his limbs sprawled. He was briefly able to see his arms; they were dirty and matted. That didn't mean the boy had to just drop him. He could hear the mean little thing whining to his mother as she dragged him away. The pink above was grower darker, more violet... and still Jenny wasn't coming.
The pink was gone now; it was all dark violet with little sparkles above. It was also much quieter now, and didn't smell quite so awful. The heat that was baking him underneath all day had also receded. A whole day gone by... Jenny was probably in tears by now. He hoped she would find him soon. He wanted to go home; he needed to be washed. It might not even be bad if she spilled juice on him again. At least then he'd smell sweet.
When footsteps came again, he wanted to shrink back, afraid that rough little boy had returned. But the hands that came around his waist were larger.. and yet somehow more delicate. He felt himself lifted gently, held securely in two hands as he looked into a face that was smudged with just as much dirt as he. This girl was much larger than Jenny, but she had pretty eyes, a grass color. And as she inspected him, she smiled.
"Some poor kid's probably missing a cutie like you, huh? Let's see, you got a name?" She turned him about slightly, tugging at the rumpled ribbon about his neck until his charm jangled. "Albert, huh? Pretty fancy..." He swelled with pride at that announcement as she chuckled and cuddled him close; she was thin, but warm. He loved his name; he wore that charm with pride from the first day Jenny tied it about his neck.
The girl settled him on her arm and dusted him off with her other sleeve. "Don't know who left you there, but you can come with me. The underpass isn't exactly a roof over your head, but it beats hanging out by the roadside.You don't wanna get squished by a car." He felt a pang then, he realized it now-- Jenny was never going to come back for him. He must have fallen out of the car.
The girl gave him a pleasant squeeze. "I used to have a ton of stuffed animals like you when I was a kid. I cried so hard when Mom gave them all away..."
This girl wasn't Jenny, but she rescued him all the same. She wasn't small and soft, but she held him close and talked to him the way Jenny would. As she settled in beneath the dark cement archways, nested in dirty old blankets and flattened, frayed pillows, it didn't feel like home to him yet. But it might, soon. He only hoped Jenny could find someone to help her get on without him so he wouldn't have to worry about her.
[About the story: As I was driving to work this morning, out of the corner of my vision I spotted a teddy bear lying in the gutter of the access road. It looked like he'd been there awhile, and he had a little green ribbon around his neck-- he was probably pretty cute when he had an owner. The idea just came to me on thinking of how it must feel, being stuck there all day, or for days, so far from 'home'. And so we have Albert's tale.]