This was two describe what the picture is about exercises. My motivation was from my Emergency fanfiction story "Little Boy Lost". The first is about the Children's Detention Center and the next on is set right after his parents deaths when he went to collect his things.
Letting Go of the Past
As I stand here looking at the crumbling remains of that place, I feel mixed emotions. Rage at the fact I was sent there simply because I was half American Indian. Fondness for the kindness some of the staff gave me. Sadness about the children who never had the care and love from their families and so they sought attention in negative ways. The dark hallways are alight from the gaping holes in the façade. The tattered curtains block the sun no more. It’s fitting that the sky is cloudy today. That’s how my mind feels, cloudy with feelings. This concrete monstrosity with locked doors and continual supervision, monitoring, security cameras, and no escape was home. Weird that I feel that way when it was really a prison forced upon me for my heritage, but for me, after my parents died, there was nowhere safer. I’m glad its closed. They’re tearing it down next week. That chapter in my life is long finished. I survived it, but I had to see it one last time.
3/21/16
Johnny knew they didn’t have much. Living on the reservation, no one had much. They let him go back to the house, his parent’s house, to get his things. They lied really, because he couldn’t take all of his things. They were his now, all of them.
When the officer opened the door to let him out of the back seat of the patrol car, the neighbors stood around gawking. He stood staring at his mother’s sofa sitting in the front yard. She was so proud of that sofa. Johnny’s father had bought it new two years ago. Now it sat in the yard like trash. He wiped a trembling hand beneath his right eye. He vowed not to let those people see him cry.
He walked over and touched the nose of his stuffed dog. Last year his father had taken him to a carnival in another town. He had shot a rifle at a stack of cans and won the dog for Johnny. He’d named the dog Waldo. Johnny slipped his small hand into the pocket of his jeans. That life was gone. His parents were gone.
“Come on boy,” the officer called him. “We don’t have all day.”
Johnny looked up at the man, glanced around the yard at all the things from his home, and turned toward the steps. Once inside he felt the hollowness in the empty room. It mimicked the hollowness in his heart. His footsteps echoed as he crossed to his bedroom. They had at least waited to empty it into the yard, until he could come and get his things. Why had they let him come, when he couldn’t take them anyway. The officer had already told him, only clothes and maybe one or two other things. He would only take his clothes. His toys only reminded him of the life he’d lost when his parents died in that car crash. There weren’t many so the officer grabbed a pillow case off his bed and let him put them in it.
Johnny stood in his room, looking one last time at the pictures on the wall, and the quilt his mother had made. If only…
He turned and walked out of the house and back to the patrol car. The officer stopped by the couch and looked at the dog. “What about this?” Johnny nodded his head and opened the door. He climbed into the backseat and turned his head away from the scene of his life strewn across the lawn.
When the officer opened the door to let him out of the back seat of the patrol car, the neighbors stood around gawking. He stood staring at his mother’s sofa sitting in the front yard. She was so proud of that sofa. Johnny’s father had bought it new two years ago. Now it sat in the yard like trash. He wiped a trembling hand beneath his right eye. He vowed not to let those people see him cry.
He walked over and touched the nose of his stuffed dog. Last year his father had taken him to a carnival in another town. He had shot a rifle at a stack of cans and won the dog for Johnny. He’d named the dog Waldo. Johnny slipped his small hand into the pocket of his jeans. That life was gone. His parents were gone.
“Come on boy,” the officer called him. “We don’t have all day.”
Johnny looked up at the man, glanced around the yard at all the things from his home, and turned toward the steps. Once inside he felt the hollowness in the empty room. It mimicked the hollowness in his heart. His footsteps echoed as he crossed to his bedroom. They had at least waited to empty it into the yard, until he could come and get his things. Why had they let him come, when he couldn’t take them anyway. The officer had already told him, only clothes and maybe one or two other things. He would only take his clothes. His toys only reminded him of the life he’d lost when his parents died in that car crash. There weren’t many so the officer grabbed a pillow case off his bed and let him put them in it.
Johnny stood in his room, looking one last time at the pictures on the wall, and the quilt his mother had made. If only…
He turned and walked out of the house and back to the patrol car. The officer stopped by the couch and looked at the dog. “What about this?” Johnny nodded his head and opened the door. He climbed into the backseat and turned his head away from the scene of his life strewn across the lawn.
3/23/16
