Zombieboy

There was a boy, he was a young nine years old, his hair was short and blond, his eyes once blue were opaque to the point where his pupils were mostly cataract white. He wore stained and worn bedclothing. The feet on his 'feety' pajamas were worn through and his feet had not survived the obvious journey he had made all that well. His toenails were cracked and red, the bottoms of his feet were pierced in a number of places, some were mere cuts left by rocks, sticks, glass and the odd bits of metal he could not remember having walked on. In a couple of places these objects were still there, inside his feet. The light blue pajamas were covered with small little teddy bears, where you could see them, so much of his clothing was a giant mass of stain that it was hard to tell they were pajamas much anymore and almost impossible to see the little bears poking their cute little heads out from behind fluffy clouds or wee pine trees. The boy was just sitting and remembering. He was having a difficult time doing so, for he was not a normal nine year old. By no stretch of the imagination is a nine year old a genius at all things. They are clever little beasts, prone to manipulative behaviour that alternatively included pouting, yelling, smiling, laughing or even a downright tantrum, those such erratic displays of emotion generally were becoming less and less effective as the boy grew older. Still he could not quite remember his name. A name, a name, it was a good one too, at least he thought it was a good one. He remembered he had a mommy, increasingly called 'Mom' and never to be called 'bitch', he remembered trying that one time and the results were...were, what? But no, 'bitch' was out. He remembered a man named 'Dad' too, almost always 'dad' now, never 'daddy' anymore, because....he was nine and nine was almost grown up.

The boy was suffering from a loud ringing in his ears, a buzzing and pain, that would simply not go away. It was so hard, so HARD for him to think. He could not remember things. Something had changed for him though, he knew that. "I am different. My arm hurts. Mommy! Mommy?", his cries were unanswered. He looked around and could not see anything very well, but he was outside, he was sitting in a street, no an 'alley', his mom and dad had told him to stay out of alleys, bad people would take you in an alley and do something to you there, no one ever said what, but the boy thought it had something to do with his 'privates'. So he should not be in an alley, maybe someone had taken him there and done something to his privates. He could see that far, his 'little boy' pajamas were still zipped up, so his 'wiener' was safe from the bad guys. Then he saw his feet.

"Ooooowwwwwwww!", the boy let out a moan and started grabbing stuff out of his very damaged feet, only his hands would not work right and as he pulled bits of glass and nails and even a small twig out of the bottoms of his feet he realized that it didn't really hurt. His hands didn't really hurt either and one of them was hardly moving at all, it was all 'numby', like when he had gone to the dentist and his face went all soft. He could hardly feel anything, so where was the pain coming from? All over, he decided after a few minutes of thinking (such as he was capable of) about it. He continued on with getting his feet fixed, when that was done he started crawling on his hands and knees towards a brighter light, which he though was one end of the alley. It was important to him to do this before a bad man, or woman, found him and did something to his wiener. He rather liked his wiener and definitely did not want anyone doing anything to it.

The boy made it about 8 feet before he found something lying in his way, it was all glowing and sparky, filled with wondrous color. The boy went towards it to see what it was. It was brilliant! It was food! He lowered his head and started eating, slurping up the colors before they spread to the ground. Mom had said not to eat stuff off the ground. Dad said there was a ten second rule, which the boy took to mean eating stuff off the ground was okay when mom was not around and dad was. Sometimes he ate stuff off the ground even if Dad was not around, especially if it just dropped on concrete, which is pretty clean stuff really. But this was a dirty, 'do stuff to his wiener' alley, so the boy opted to not eat off the ground. As he ate he felt better and better and better. Like the food was helping him feel less pain and making his aches go all away. Better than any medicine the doctor gave him, faster anyway, better than anything he had ever had before. He kept eating and realized that his food actually was on the ground, he shifted around to eat from the top more and left the bottom stuff alone. After awhile the food stopped glowing pretty colors and didn't taste good anymore, which was okay because the boy was feeling full. He pulled himself to one side of the alley and sat with his back against the wall and his eyes closed, trying to think.

Looking into the alley anyone else would have seen the boy's food slowly rise to its feet and stumble away, ignoring the boy completely.

..home.. next...