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Harold |
The thudding of rain awakened Harold from his slumber. Looking up at the ceiling of his home, he noticed moisture begin to appear. The water then began to form into a small bead as the poor little boy watched intently. The droplet then fell from the brown ceiling and splashed against his right eye causing him to shake his pathetic head in an attempt to remove the violating substance. Harold despised the rain. It was the rain that caused his roof to bow, allowing moisture to accumulate more easily on top. If it continued to rain, the waves of water would force their ways through the cardboard doors of his home. Then, he knew he would have to sleep in the remaining puddle. Doing so always left poor Harold feeling sickly afterwards. One time, he got so sick that knew Death waited outside his home. He wanted to move away to another place, but he knew that his mom would someday return. It seems, however, that she has been missing for months now.
Harold was born into a large family. Harold wandered from his home one day, exploring what lie outside his shelter. However, when he returned back home, his home had been ransacked. His mother and siblings were gone. He cried out through the night, longing to regain his family. As others heard his cries, the silence of night became an echo of maddening proportions. His family never made it home again.
Harold jerked back from reminiscence by electricity surging to the ground in blinding rage. Suddenly, the bolt of lightning punched into a nearby tree, causing it to burst into flame. The crackling of fire added to Harold’s already tense nature. He watched in horror as a flaming branch broke away from the clutches of the tree and landed on his home. Frightened, the boy jumped out of his house in a desperate attempt to prolong his life. The fire then took control of his home and began to dance around his resting-place as if taunting the now homeless Harold. Afraid of what lay ahead, he sprinted away from his vandalized home and into the deathly darkness of night.
…
Harold opened his eyes to the dawning day’s welcoming light. He saw legs hustling around him, without taking heed of the hungry, homeless boy. One man almost stepped on the poor soul without second thought, luck holding him securely in her arms. Another person, a lady, accidentally kicked Harold in the ribs. Letting out a yelp, the woman bent over, apologized, and continued her way. No one seemed to care that he was naked, wet, hungry, or homeless. Everyone was in a hurry and went their separate ways.
Suddenly, two children started running towards the poor boy. Frightened, he ran into the shadows. The boy and girl tried to explore his hiding place when a voice was heard.
"Paula! Jeffrey! Get over here now!" the new female voice uttered.
"But Mommy, he doesn’t have a home," Paula replied.
"Can we take him home, Mommy? Please, can we? Please?" Jeffrey responded in synch with his sister.
"Where is he?" Mommy inquired.
Harold tried to remember the names. These people seemed nice people and his mother always told him to remember names. Everyone appreciates his or her name being remembered. "Paula, Jeffrey, and Mommy" he thought as he tried to burn their faces and names into memory.
"I think he went into the trash over there," Jeffrey said as he pointed to where Harold was trying to hide.
"Well, let’s stop by the store and get him something to eat," Mommy suggested.
"Can we stay, Mommy?" The boy and girl asked.
"Of course not. Let’s go now," Mommy commanded, noticing the look on the children’s faces. "We’ll be back in no time."
…
The sun had begun to set and everything was slowly becoming tinted. Mommy had not returned and Harold had almost given up when he heard a door open. After a few footsteps were heard, Mommy came around the corner with something in her hand. Harold watched as a bowl was placed on the cement and something plopped into it. The smell of the food was unbearable; he cautiously made his way to the bowl. At the bowl, Mommy stood, watching. As Harold began to inhale the food, he felt a hand rest on his head. It was Mommy that ran her tender hands through his matted hair. Her touch was soothing and helped Harold forget about the troubles and stress of life. Quickly, her hands grabbed the poor boy, his heart racing. It was a trap, but what could he do? He was too weak to fight her off. What would he do?
Mommy made her way to her vehicle and through the open door. Inside the car, she shut the door and started the engine. Harold looked through the glass window, his neighborhood fading in the distance, as the car drove away. Harold in her lap, Mommy continued to sooth the puppy with her words and hands. Harold wondered what would happen next as the car came to a stop at his new home.
