So here's another chapter ready for your feedback!
By the way, the book has passed 65,500 words! What better way to celebrate?!
...
He usually fell asleep the moment his head
touched the pillow. He tossed and turned, to no avail. Instead, he just lay
there, trying to remember what had happened. He stared at the cracked white
ceiling as the glowing street lights from the outside dripped into the room
through the huge windows. Meanwhile the other children were deep into their own
dreams, some giggling in their sleep, others talking nonsense, which made him
snicker quietly as he wondered what they were thinking.
Maybe
they were dreaming about their old families, or their adoptive ones, how much
fun they will have once they get out of here, away from this dull and nasty
world. He had been in here for too long, almost 12 years. Yet he didn’t
remember what it was like at all to live outside, as if he was born when he was
8 years old. His “mother” nun told of how she first met him, when she found him
as an infant in Kensington Gardens that desperately needed a mother. She never
really told him anything else about where he came from. Then again, he always
meant to ask her for more about his past, but either things came up or she was
away at some place or another.
His
eyelids eventually began to close. He must have gone to sleep then because it
felt like a moment before the wake-up bell rung twice.
Well, that was
fast. How long
was I asleep?
The light that had been from the streetlights
just a moment ago was now completely sun covered up by cloud. Two Nuns came in armed
with pails of water and begun walking through the aisles, urging the boys to
get up or facing a bucketful of water. They weren’t afraid to do so either. He
always got up immediately, dragged himself to his cubby, change into his dreary
Sunday uniform of a gray jacket, white shirt with black pants , black socks and
shoes, then went straight to wash his face. While everyone goes on with their
business – getting up, washing up, getting downstairs to Sunday Mass – George
stayed in bed, refusing to get up, even though he was one of the newer boys in
the Orphanage.
“Get
out of bed now! I'm sick and tired of coming back here to wake you
up! Now, up!” For this boy, a sprinkle of water just won’t do. So she
dumped the whole bucket on him, the cold water splashed all over the bed,
mostly on him. He gave such a cracked shriek so loud that David spat out his
water mid-swish and winced.
“YEEOW!
Sister, are you mad? I could have drowned, or maybe died sooner of pneumonia!”
“OUT.” The nun pointed to the bathroom.
“Poor
George,” thought David. “This happened to him every day; the same
threat, same effect, the… same water? Definitely not.”
He groggily lifted himself out of bed and
slowly made his way to the bathroom. As luck would have it, the sink next to
David was empty. George immediately took it, and David had waited for him.
“Have
a better half of sleep?”
“Actually,
yes. It was as fast as a blink.”
“Well,
that’s good. I need to give you a little warning. Make sure you don’t have a
dream like that again.”
“How
can I?”
“Look,
just don’t scream. Try to tell yourself not to make so much noise at night
again. I know it’s only been recent that you’ve done this, but don’t.”
“Why?
What’s going on? What happened?”
He
whispered in, as if telling over a secret. “Other kids had been up too. They
heard screaming, then crying. I told them they were just hearing things. But
this isn’t so good. If you scream again…”
“What
then? What will happen?”
“I
hope nothing bad. They’ll just know that you scream in your sleep. Another
reason to avoid you, maybe hurt you.”
He
can see David’s eyes widen with shame.
“Listen,
it won’t be a big deal, as long as you don’t do that again. They don’t know
about what happened.”
“Well,
that’s a good thing. Should I tell someone else about this? Can it be a
problem?”
“No.
Don’t tell anyone. Besides, I don’t know who else you could tell.” He didn’t
know about David’s “mother” nun.
“What
are you two still doing here?”
Sister
Agnes, one of the nuns in charge of the whole orphanage, had come back up to
check on the room to find that two of them hadn't left yet. She stood furiously
by the doorway of the bathroom, her big red stern face glaring at them.
“Do
you know what time it is?”
“Why
is she asking us,” George whispered, his back to her, pretending to wash his
face. “We don't know any more than she does.” David held back a laugh. The nun
caught it, and one could have heard the tenacity in her voice subside at him.
“David,
you think it's funny? You think that missing most of mass is funny?”
“No
Sister Agnes,” David said.
“Agnes,”
he thought. “I always wondered what kind of name that was for a nun.”
“So
why are you still here, dear David?”
“I-I
don't know.”
“Well,
I know where you should be, and I expect you to go
there immediately,” she said with a firm look in her eye to
David.
“Yes
Sister.”
They
both knew how David was treated so nicely, so George expected her expression to
contort to a much angrier emotion when she turned to him.
David
obediently listened, but took one more look back at George, who washed his face
for the fifth time, before he rushed downstairs to mass.
The
attached church to the orphanage was huge, with a high ceiling decorated with paintings
and large windows on its sides depicting scenes from the Bible. It was capable
of housing over 400 people, and almost every single one was filled, which was
usual for Sunday Mass. David snuck in at the perfect time, while the audience
stood and sung the hymns and psalms. He quietly searched for an aisle seat,
away from the nuns and the rest of the orphans that stood in front, found one
and just stood there, pretending to sing along. David had nothing against the
service, to the Nun’s chagrin; he just didn't like singing, which was what they
expected of him.
What
was worse was when all that singing finished and the priest would speak to the
churchgoers. David just couldn't pay attention for so long; instead, he would
just sit back in his seat and look at the beautiful glass on the ceiling,
especially at the places where there was mostly green. The Nuns tried to get
David to pay attention, but to no avail. David absolutely loved the color
green. If he could, he would only wear green clothes and live where there was a
lot of green, away from all the black, gray and white shades of dull. The only
exception regarding green was by food; he wouldn't touch anything green, no
vegetables of any shade.
“Green
wasn't meant to be eaten," he would always say." It was meant for
more important things."
After
the priestly blessing, the mass was over, and David knew that the rest was just
plain routine.
The
amount of children in the orphanage were small, so when school started, a lot
more boys came in, and drove all of the orphans mad with jealousy. There was
breakfast, followed by the first lesson in Bible–a different class for each age
group and would seem to take forever-then a short recess, followed by a class
in reading and writing, then supper, then a second class in Bible, this time
about the New Testament, then recess, and afterwards was mathematics. Then there
was dinner, another class in Bible –a different class for each age group- then
evening prayers with only the priests, then up to the sleeping quarters to wash
and get to bed.
That
was David's life for the past 10 years. Being 11 now, he wasn’t proud that he
could sum it up, but if that’s what he’s was to get, then so be it.
After
all that was immediately lights out and bed. All the children, some forced to,
said a prayer at the bedside before turning in for the night. David did so but
he always said the same one, very quickly and automatically:
“Dear-God,
thank-you-for-the-orphanage, for-all-the-nuns-who-feed-care-and-protect-me, please-let-me-live-tomorrow,
Amen."
He
quickly climbed into bed and, using an amazing talent, amongst all of the noise
from the other children chatting about their day, he fell asleep the moment his
head touched the pillow.
...
The
first thing he felt was that he was very high up, almost as if-
Oh, no. Not at the clock
tower! Not again!
Now
there was a voice in his head, slightly different than his own:
Whatever you do, do NOT look down!!
Who…
who is this?
Keep your eyes straight! Slide across the edge
of the tower or you’ll see nothing but the street!
This
was the nightmare that made David afraid to dream. He had viewed dreams as an
escape, to go to that dream place. But not like this.
He
stood so far above the ground that he didn’t need to be told not to look down.
As
much as he wanted to, he couldn’t; he did once before, but he fell down.
But from where he was, London, in its
entirety, was spread out underneath him. The bright lights from the streets and
houses gave off dim glows that breathed new life into the city’s midnight. The
sky was clear, with many bright stars scattered across the sky, while the moon was
perched atop a throne of thin clouds.
Now
the voice spoke again and slowly got louder until it was too loud, and rung in
his ears, canceling out anything else.
Get away from this ledge. He’ll get you.
No, it’s too late. Jump … Now! BEFORE
IT’S TOO LATE!
“Wait,
so I have to JUMP? Before it’s too late… for what?”
Then
he heard the booming voice.
“Hey
you there- Come back here, boy! Come to me, or I'll have to come to you!"
Then the brickwork a few feet from where David stood
burst apart and revealed a strong, hand and lean arm. It was long enough to
reach him.
JUMP! NOW! BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!
He
panicked as sweat trickled down his face. This meant jumping to his doom, and
no one could save him.
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?? JUMP!!
Before
the man grabbed him, David took a footing and jumped as far and as high as he
could.
The
wind blew through his hair as he fell for what seemed like forever. That still
kept his heart beating fast and hard in his chest and his head. This was why he
was afraid of heights; the fall was so terrifying that it was hard to stop his
screams. But on the way down, he suddenly thought something else, a thought
that quelled all of the terror and gave him some serenity, even for a second:
Well, at least he didn’t catch you right?
David
couldn’t help but agree with the inevitable, as feeling of calm and serenity swept
through him as he fell, the skyline still as bright as ever. As he fell faster
and faster to what he accepted as his impending doom, David closed his eyes,
even smiled, and waited for the final impact.
He
expected to hit the ground.
Then
it happened. He felt a change in the fall.
He
could’ve sworn he wasn’t falling vertically, but horizontally…
Am I flying?! What’s going on?!
David could never be sure, because at the
moment when he was even the slightest bit sure that he was…
He
woke up.
The boy suddenly sat up and gasped for air, as
cold beads of sweat ran down his face. He wiped them away, forced himself to
calm down and looked around. He was where he should be, at the far right corner
bed in the sleeping quarters of the St. Augustine’s orphanage in London. The
cloudy lights of morrow peeked through the tops of the buildings, shining dimly
into the large windows on the opposite wall.
David
sat up again, wide-eyed, as a trickle of cold sweat ran down his face and heart
beat quickly in his chest. His lungs begged his body to calm down. Then there
was a different noise. This time the
dream was scarier because the voices were louder. Now he remembered more of it.
Questions began to swirl in his mind as he recalled more.
Why
was I on the ledge? Who, and why, was someone telling me to jump, especially
before it was too late? What was “too late”? Who was trying to catch me and
what did he want? Did I actually FLY?
He
wouldn't be able to answer them though, because he heard this:
“Who
screamed again?" Someone else heard… and he sounded angry.
Uh
– oh. It’s John.
David
quickly lay back down, hoping no one saw.
“I
think he did, the boy in the back corner."
He
could feel it. Someone was pointing at his bed.
“Yeah, that definitely sounded like Spotty,"
the first boy said. He meant David’s freckles.
I'm
doomed.
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