Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Entry #37

Never Never Land
by DBA Lehane

Once upon a time Mummy used to read me fairytales at bedtime. Then she went and died and I suddenly realised there were no such things as happy-ever-afters.

I find the house in its usual state after school; dirty plates piling up in the sink, trashcans overflowing and Daddy snoring loudly on the couch – an empty bottle of vodka at his side and his special pills in his hand.

“They take me to Never Never Land, son,” he told me once. “A place where I don’t hurt for a while.”

I start tidying around. He’ll be angry if the place is a mess when he eventually wakes up. I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me like he does. He just misses Mummy too. I choke back tears trying not to cry. That makes him even angrier. I’ve got to be a big boy now.

My grades have started slipping at school recently and some of the kids have taken to teasing me about my smelly clothes and dirty hair. Sometimes I wish for some magic beans so I can climb a beanstalk and escape to some magic kingdom where I won’t hurt anymore. But big boys don’t believe in fairytales do they?

I creep over to the couch and carefully take the bottle of pills from Daddy’s hand. There’s at least ten left. I swallow them in one go and lie down upon the dirty carpet and wait.

Maybe I’ll find a happy ever after in Never Never Land?


briliantdonkey said...

Ughhhh sad story all along with a tragically sad ending to come it seems. Makes me wonder if he knew the result of what he was doing or just think the pain is going to go away for a while.


Esther Avila said...

that poor little boy - makes me wish i could hold him in my arms.

Suzan Abrams, email: suzanabrams@live.co.uk said...

Keep to your style, Lehane.
It's different & unique.

Scott said...

Yikes, here I was thinking I remember feeling that exact same way when I was a kid, and then BLAM. A big ouch.

Anonymous said...

A friend recently said that flash can provide real gems of thought. This piece does exactly that. Here it is an hour after I first read it and I'm still reeling from the impact, wondering why there was nobody around to help this little boy. This is a wonderful piece of writing!!!

Anonymous said...

very well written, sad, thoughtful story. nice work.

Beth said...

Really well done ... and sad. You people keep killing children and I'm not reading them anymore. =)

Bernita said...

You're voice is mixed, but I think the sorrow triumphs over it.

Blu Jewel said...

this is one of those stories where is seems art imitates life.

The Wandering Author said...

The "mixed voice" seems very appropriate to me, considering the narrator. And, yes, this packs a huge punch; I felt literally as if I'd been punched in the gut after reading it.

The concern Dickens inspired with many of his novels - you manage to inspire in a short little piece of flash fiction. Impressive!

DBA Lehane said...

Thank you everyone for the comments, which are all valued. With respect to the "mixed voice" - this is a little boy suddenly thrust into, and expected to come to terms with, an adult world he doesn't fully understand compared to the bedtime fictional world world of fairies and beanstalks who was used to. He is meant to be confused.

Anonymous said...

i like the way the sad tale of the boy is written in such a simple and direct manner. this also reminds me of a poem i had penned some time ago.

quite wonderful!

Anonymous said...

Tough ending. Somehow I think that the father will be next when he wakes up. That beanstalk is there after al.

A high scorer overall!