Hello there wanderer, welcome to my sandbox page.
Here are some of the stories I'm currently working on, enjoy!
A curious 6-year-old, found himself perched on the wooden stairs of his childhood home. His small frame was barely noticeable against the backdrop of the elegant foyer. The sounds of his parents' heated argument echoed through the house, invading the silence that usually enveloped the space.
Although young, Alex possessed an acute sense of awareness, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop on his parents' conversation. His mother's distressed voice trembled as she mentioned his name, a word that caught his attention like a beacon in the night. Confusion wrinkled his brow as his father responded coldly, his voice lacking the warmth that Alex was accustomed to. "What about Alex?" his mother pleaded, her voice tinged with despair.
"I'm not keeping him," his father retorted sharply, his words falling like icy daggers. "Did you call Mrs. Thompson then?" his mother exclaimed, her voice cracking with anguish. The weight of their words hung heavily in the air, a burden that the young boy struggled to comprehend.
"Yeah…" the father replied, hesitatingly.
"Will he be okay with all this?" His mother asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Yeah, don't worry about it," his father retorted in a cold voice.
Perched on the stairs, the boy listened, his heart pounding against his chest. He had no idea why his parents were arguing, why they spoke of him in such a detached manner. His world was built on love and familiarity, and this sudden upheaval left him disoriented and lost….. And what exactly they meant by him being "okay with all this." The uncertainty weighed heavily on the young boy's mind.
Quietly, he descended a few steps to get closer, his heart pounding. He knew he shouldn't be listening, but he couldn't tear himself away. Their raised voices and emotional words made him feel anxious, and he wanted to understand what was happening.
"I just don't want him to be hurt, you know?" His mother's voice broke, revealing her vulnerability.
"Hurt? He'll be fine," his father replied dismissively.
Alex's mind raced with possibilities, trying to grasp the situation unfolding before him. Did his parents want to send him away? Was he going somewhere? He clung to the railing, seeking comfort from the familiar touch of the polished wood.
As the argument reached an impasse, a heavy silence settled over the house. The sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness, and a rush of panic coursed through Alex's veins. Instinctively, he knew he had to retreat to the safety of his room. With nimble feet, he ascended the stairs, the creaking wood betraying his escape. He hurriedly jumped onto his cozy bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and closing his eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep.
The door creaked open, and Alex's father stood in the doorway, his silhouette a dark figure against the dim light filtering through the curtains. The room fell silent, each second stretching out like an hour. Alex held his breath, hoping against hope that his father would leave him be.
After what felt like an eternity, his father's heavy sigh broke the silence. Slowly, the door closed, and Alex let out the breath he had been holding. Relief washed over him, but uncertainty still lingered. What would happen next?
The next morning arrived with the sun's gentle rays peeking through the curtains of Alex's room. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he looked around, expecting to see his familiar surroundings, the toys strewn across the floor and the bookshelf filled with stories waiting to be read. But instead, his gaze fell upon the chaos that engulfed his room. His favorite toys, books, and clothes were neatly packed into a bag, ready for a journey that he couldn't yet comprehend.
His mother was nowhere to be seen, and the absence gnawed at his young heart. Seeking answers, Alex turned to his father, his eyes filled with innocent curiosity. "Where's mom?" he asked, his voice laced with a tinge of concern.
There was no reply, only a distant, haunted look in his father's eyes. He simply gestured for Alex to get ready, an unspoken command that Alex obeyed without question. Confusion and unease washed over him as he climbed into the car, his father carefully fastening his seatbelt, their routine disrupted.
The car engine roared to life, and as they pulled away from the familiar streets, Alex's eyes scanned the passing houses, searching for a glimpse of his mother's face. But she was nowhere to be seen. Alex's young mind struggled to make sense of the situation, his heart heavy with a mixture of longing and fear.
"Where are we going, Dad?" Alex's voice trembled with uncertainty, his gaze fixed on his father's profile as they ventured into the unknown.
"To your new home, Alex," his father replied, the weight of those words settled upon the young boy's shoulders like a heavy cloak. New home? What did that mean? Alex's mind raced, trying to comprehend the sudden upheaval that had turned his world upside down.
As the car journey continued, Alex's eyelids grew heavy, the rhythmic hum of the engine lulling him into a fitful sleep. Dreams danced across his mind, a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories and unanswered questions.
Suddenly, a gentle nudge and his father's soothing voice roused Alex from his slumber. "Wake up, kid. We've arrived."
Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Alex looked out of the car window and found himself standing before a weathered sign that read "Winter Willow Orphanage." The words seemed alien, discordant with the warmth and love he had known in his own home. Confusion gripped him, as he couldn't fathom why they were at an orphanage.
His father guided him inside the brick building, the walls adorned with faded paintings and worn-out photographs. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of hope lingered in the air. Alex clutched his father's hand tightly, seeking comfort in this strange new environment.
They were greeted by a kind-faced woman, Mrs. Thompson, who smiled warmly at Alex. "Welcome to Winter Willow, Alex," she said in a gentle tone. "This will be your new home from now on."
Alex's eyes widened, his heart racing with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. He glanced up at his father, searching for answers, but his father's eyes were cast downward, his face etched with a sadness that mirrored Alex's own.
Mrs. Thompson led them through the corridors, introducing Alex to the other children residing at Winter Willow. Their laughter echoed in the halls, a bittersweet symphony that filled the emptiness within Alex's heart. He longed to join them, to find solace in their company, but the ache of separation from his family was still raw and throbbing.
As they reached the room that would become his sanctuary, Alex noticed a small bed adorned with a colorful quilt and a shelf filled with books waiting to be explored. The room held a glimmer of hope, a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of his young life.
Mrs. Thompson knelt down to Alex's eye level, her warm eyes brimming with compassion. "I know this is all new and scary for you, Alex," she said softly. "But Winter Willow is a place where you can find friends, support, and a sense of belonging. We'll take good care of you here."
Alex mustered a shy smile, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within him. Mrs. Thompson's words resonated, offering a sliver of comfort in the midst of his confusion.