Boy in a Well | Part 1

There would be moments where I would find time to be  alone. I leave the cabin and sit along the river bank and toss stones into the water. It was nice, nice to think about anything and do nothing. 

For most of my life, I was an only child. That changed two weeks ago. It’s fine. I wanted a younger brother, a boy like me, but my neighbor that lives a mile away told me all babies act and look the same. So I don’t really mind. We could have done without another baby, because now instead of me getting new socks and trousers that fit, we have to use whatever spending money we have on the baby. It’s okay. My socks have three holes each. I don’t have any buttons.

A rock hits me on the head, bounces off my cap. I look behind me. Nothing but a tree, a well, and a well-dressed bird on a tree. I wonder if he threw it. I ask the bird, but he flies off. I turn back around and finish my sandwich (jelly and crackers).

Another stone hits me. I’m done eating, so I get up and look around. No bird, no alive tree–what could it be? I’m alone.

I see it this time, another rock flying up into the air then arching back down into my hands. It came from the well. I stand on the tops of my toes, gripping the branches sewn into the rocks, and look in. 

I see a smile, a wave, and another stone hits me in the face. I’m bleeding now, but I smile and wave back.    


This story is just a practice run of some stream of consciousness writing. This is inspired by the young boy character Vardaman from the novel As I Lay Dying. I will be writing a review of a show, as well as some Christmas stories in the meantime. Thank you for reading!

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