Intro. to Creative Writing 202, assignment #3
This week we had to: Describe an actual or invented incident from the different perspectives (points of view) of at least two people who participated in, or observed, the incident. You may use the news as a source, or your own experience, or your imagination.
Jimmy’s Shield
“It’s not healthy behaviour,” said Mary Henderson to her husband. “He cannot stay in his room all day, playing with his imaginary friends.”
“Yes, I know,” replied Mr. Henderson, “but what should we do? He doesn’t like it outside. His teacher told me, that sometimes kids behave like that at his age and we shouldn’t force him to play outside. It will come naturally.”
“I hope you’re right, John, but I just don’t know.”
They were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking their morning coffee. They lived in a two-storey building, occupying the top floor. Mary’s father lived on the ground floor. He took care of Jimmy on school holidays, like this one. Mr. Henderson reached for his newspaper, when she said:
“I just want him to be normal. I want him to come home with muddy clothes. Or with a bloody knee, weeping.”
“Mary!” he said abruptly.
“I’m sorry. You know I don’t mean it. I just want him to feel reality. Cartoons and action figures will not do. He stares at the wall for hours, for Christ’s sake, laughing and amusing himself. Is this normal? I raised four brothers and none of them were like our Jimmy.”
“Not everybody is alike, sweetheart. I was a lot like him when I was seven: introvert, shy, not very popular. He’ll make friends. Don’t worry. At least, he’s talented and imaginative. The other day his teacher told me he draws very maturely for his age. Even though she does worry about his subject matter sometimes,” said John, chuckling.
“What did he draw?” she asked, panicking.
“Do you remember that evening, when we were watching that Disney movie with him, and that hunter shot the little deer?”
She hummed affirmatively.
“Well, in his drawing, the deer wins,” smiled Mr. Henderson.
“Oh God, blood again,” Mary said. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. He cares more for a fake deer on television, than he does for real animals. Like that mouse we killed and chucked in the garbage can, only to find it back in his room, participating in his little games.”
John laughed. “He’s a kid, darling. Just let him be.”
“I know he’s a kid. That’s what I’m saying. He is not happy unless he is making something up, God knows what that is, I can’t control what he’s imagining. I don’t like this lack of control over our seven-year-old. He does not communicate with us, he doesn’t want to come anywhere with us. He needs to be disciplined, John. There’s nothing a smack on the cheek won’t fix.”
John flustered.
“I will not have it in my house. No beating. Do you hear me? I mean it,” said John. “If we treat him as a child he’ll remain one. No! He will be treated as an adult. He’ll have freedom and he will come to realise his responsibilities. You’ll see.”
“This is not normal, honey. He’s just a kid, he should do what we say,” she said, touching John’s hand gently.
“It is normal.”
Mary sat back. “Well, I’ll be off then. I’m already late. My father will come upstairs in a second. I phoned him and he was already up. We’ll talk about this later ok?”
John nodded. “I’ll be late tonight,” he said pensively. “Too many pending cases.”
“Again?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll have something for you in the oven.”
They kissed briefly and she left.
“You should go to work too, old man. But I don’t want to. Who cares, John?” He conversed with himself and laughed. “Yeah. Jimmy is the crazy one,” he continued, and headed to Jimmy’s room, still laughing. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He opened the door and searched for Jimmy, without entering.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” sang his father.
Jimmy was sitting inside his plastic playhouse, staring at the yellow walls, mumbling gibberish. He seemed happy. John spotted him.
“What are you doing in there? Can I come play too?”
Jimmy did not respond. John entered slowly, kicking aside his son’s scattered toys.
“Please, don’t step on them Mr. big giant,” uttered Jimmy in a worried tone, “or else they’ll die.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, and backed off, smiling. “I’m going to work and came to say goodbye to you. So, bye, son! Your grandfather will be up in a while,”
“Oh no, the evil monster!” Jimmy whispered to his teddy bear.
“so don’t lock your door this time, ok? We agreed on this,” continued his father, not hearing Jimmy’s remark, and closed the door. As soon as his father left, Jimmy raced to the door and locked it.
One hour later, neighbours and passers-by were standing outside the Henderson’s house.
“It’s a tragedy. A real tragedy,” said a grey-haired lady to another, and sucked her teeth.
The other tightened her robe belt. “Was there anyone inside?”
“I don’t know. Maybe their little boy.”
“Let’s hope he ran out.”
The fire trucks’ lights were illuminating their worried faces. Some firemen were shouting, others were hand-signalling. The fire was raging. The police kept everyone safely away.
Mary’s speeding car screeched to a stop. She jumped out, screaming. “Oh, my God. Where is he? Where’s my baby?”
She ran to the front door. A policeman grabbed her.
“I’m sorry Ma’am, you have to stay here.”
*****
Jimmy locked the door. “Phew!” he exhaled, “the evil monster can’t get us now.” He returned in his small playhouse and sat cross-legged, staring at the yellow wall, deep in thought. He began laughing. “No Mr. Bear, that is bad. We shouldn’t make fun of him.”
-But he was saying nasty things about you, said Mr. Bear, into Jimmy’s head.
“No he didn’t. What things?”
-That you were bad.
Jimmy laughed. “You’re silly. Elliot would never say that. I’m a good boy.” Then Jimmy felt agitated. “Let’s play with our cars,” he said, and grabbed a red metal matchbox car with his left hand and a similar police car with his right. He began imitating car-chase sound effects. He wailed like a siren and screeched for the tyres. “You’ll never catch me, bad cops. I’m Robin Hood, and I’m giving the money to the poor,” he said, while his car slid in a swift left turn. “Quick Mr. Bear, open your door so we can fly.” Jimmy opened both of the doors and his toy car, which now vaguely resembled an aeroplane, took off from the ground. “Hooray,” he shouted, “we’re free,” and jounced the police car furiously while saying in a low voice: “Mighty Jim escaped again, Chief,” and emulated a walkie-talkie, signing off.
He giggled joyfully as he crawled out of the playhouse, when suddenly, a knock and a tiresome voice came from the door.
“Jimmy! It’s Grandpa, open the door. Don’t do this again. I’m responsible for you and I will not take this kind of disobedience from you, young man.”
“No, you’re a meany old monster, and you sound funny,” replied Jimmy.
“I woke up with a cold today and my nose is blocked,” said his grandfather. “Come on, open up.”
He waited for a moment and said: “Ok, I’ll go downstairs, to my kitchen and brew some coffee. When I come back, this better be unlocked.”
The grandfather went downstairs, walked into his kitchen, and, unable to smell the extensive gas leak, he lit a match.
Explosion!
Jimmy gasped. “What was that Mr. Bear?”
-I don’t know, Mighty Jim.
Jimmy felt weird. Something told him to run out. He did not listen. He knelt and looked under the door. Yellow-orange colours were visible. “Oh no, it’s the monsters. We can’t go out now.”
He sat down and buried his head between his knees, thinking. Shortly after, grey smoke came in, uninvited.
“Hurry, let’s wear my Robocop suit and hide in the playhouse. It has a super shield.”
He snatched a blanket, wrapped it around him and crouched inside the plastic walls. “Don’t worry Mr. Bear. We’re safe in here,” he said, and coughed for a while. Then he stopped.
the end.
My CW professor commented: good story as usual, and some good lines. seems less careful, though than your earlier work. B
(Hey professor, I have things to see and cracks to fuck. Get off my balls.)