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HORNER, JACK

November 29, 2007

      I don’t know how long they’ve been here, drifting through the room touching people. As far as I can remember the ghosts have always been here; they make us normal again. It’s always so quiet after they have come and gone. When they touch me, oh they are so beautiful, I can begin to remember things again. I know when they have touched me because my throat feels cool and my mouth is wet. As soon as I stop shaking I go to my window.
     I love my window because it is so bright, just like the ghosts. I know that I am normal when I look out the window because I see people walking in all that brightness. They must be normal, so I’m sure that I am too because otherwise how could I see them?
     My window is so pretty. For so long it shows me a green world; then it changes its mind, turns a bunch of colors, and then turns white. That’s when it’s the brightest. I can never remember to count how many times it’s turned white for me, but my window likes me because it’s done it a lot. Even though it changes colors all the time, I know it’s my window, my name is on the bed under it. In little letters it says “HORNER, JACK”.
     But now my hands start to shake again and I don’t like to sit by my window. The Outside people can see me here. They stop walking by and start watching me. I think they see my hands shake. The ghosts say that Outside peoples hands don’t shake ’cause they’re normal. So if they see me shaking they will know I live with the ghosts. When the ghosts make my mouth wet and cold my hands stop shaking. But now my hands are shaking so I can’t be normal. I wish my window would help me stay normal.
     I have to get up now. Maybe I can find a ghost to touch me again, but all I see is the other people. All of them are Inside people. They wear stripes like me. They are so noisy. Whenever my hands begin to shake the Inside people get too loud and hurt my ears. I always have to cover my head with my arms and run to the quiet places. But I’m looking for the ghosts and I don’t see any.
     My favorite quiet place is over in the corner under the shelf. It is a very tall shelf, but it does not scare me. I know nothing is living up there. I sit in my corner because I am smart. I know that because the ghosts stay away from us Inside people when we are loud, so I must be smart when I hide from the loud people. I know that if I can be like the ghosts, then I am good and they will have to say I’m normal.
     The ghosts have come back to stop my hands from shaking. I stand and walk over to them. I try to float like they do. I practice. One ghost smiles at me, touches me, but my mouth is still dry. I hope I’ve not been bad. They make it dark when I’m bad. The ghost says today we are special because one of the Outside people has given us their food to eat.
     But if I eat Outside people food, then wont I get smart and become normal? On the table is the Outside food. It’s a pie. It must have brains in it or something. The kind that will keep my hands from shaking.
     So I grab the pie for myself, right in front of the ghost, and run to my corner. The ghost gets all loud and noisy like Inside people do. This pie must have the ghosts brain in it. It wants the brains for itself. It only wanted to give us a little. But I know now. I’ll get a brain and I’ll be normal. When I get to my corner I sit down with the Outside pie. I don’t want to break all the brains by mushing them up with my whole hand. The ghost is so noisy now. I don’t want the ghost to think I’m bad and make it dark so I stick only my thumb in the pie. When I pull it out there is a brain stuck to it, it looks sort of like a plum. I show the ghost my new brain, so it knows that I’m smart and normal now. I say “I’m a good boy” but the ghost says I’m not smart.
     Then the ghost makes everything go dark…

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9 comments

  1. Very well written and intriguing. Thanks for sharing!


  2. Susie,
    I’ve always liked Fractured Fairy tales. This is my attempt. Thanks. Dobre Den


  3. Ahh Jack what a good boy you are…Vey deliciously dark…thanks!


  4. Sorrow,
    It’s fun to twist up old standards. Maybe in the future there will be a “Pinocchio the gold medalist pole-vaulter“, or “Pinocchio the liar firewood salesman.” 🙂 LOL


  5. Very, very, very dark indeed. I say, hmmmm, another one excellent piece of writing which forces me to re-read again. Already twice now, I pick-up something different. A little too much for me this morning, so I must return when the synapses are firing with more alertness. LOL!

    Good stuff Polar…


  6. Thanks Hawk,
    This is a fantasy piece. I have no personal institutional experience, mostly. When I was done writing I was a little manic & paranoid myself. Try reading this as quickly as possible, slightly panicky. That should give you the same tempo as the main character. Enjoy!


  7. What a fascinating, multi-layered shiver story…did you write this by your own window? i am sure i sat beside him and ate some of that pie too…what a delicious writer!


  8. Hello Gail,
    Welcome to the Court. It’s always good to meet new minds. I’m glad you liked the piece. I had a lot of fun writing it. BTW, It was not a window, it was more of a shrine. Hope to hear from you again. Dobre Den.


  9. Dear White Bear, a shrine you say! do tell….



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