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The boy

"Food here....must eat" whispered the mother, her voice coarse but the tone gentle as always.

the boy was aware that the food arrived, he has seen the tray slide through the little slit in the door that separates him for the world, from people, from everything that seems to him a mere dream now.

"Eat...you be big...my boy" the whispers continued.

"yes...I eat, mama" the boy says, and he gets up to retrieve the usual tasteless meal he ate everyday since...what he felt was an eternity.

He has gotten used to it, as long as he can stop the noises in his stomach. Yet, it is obvious that the food lacks the nutrition his growing body needs; he may have grown bigger than his clothes (or what used to be), but his limbs, once soft and plump, now thin and weak.

He took the stale bread and porridge, and with the help of the dim lighting from the barricaded window sitting high up the wall, he traced his steps back to his little bed, or rather, worn out sheets on the ground, where he sat with his back to the wall, right at the center of his drawings.

Those drawings has been his only company. When he was 4 or 5 years old, he woke up one day and found himself in that dark room. A panicking child that was suddenly ripped away from everyone who loved him, his mother, father, older brother, and two sisters. He cried for days, shouted into the little slit that his food comes through, kicked the walls, screamed his lungs out. Nothing, no one came, no one even talked to him and told him to be quiet.

So when he was exhausted of all the kicking and crying, he picked up a piece of charcoal he found in one of the room's corners and started to draw his family members, one by one. His drawings were childish in style, very crude and simple, and were further from the actual features of his family members, or any human being for that matter.

They had big smiles, a few lines coming out of their heads to symbolize hair, their hands looked like forks, their bellies round and big.

Yet they provided him with an escape, a comfort against his feelings of isolation and abandonment. As weeks, months, and years passed, the real faces of his family members faded from his memories, and the faces he drew replaced them instead. One day, they started talking to him, telling him stories and making him laugh. Now, he even feels their embrace as he lays on the ground, tears running down his pale cheeks. They hold him close every night until he can finally fall asleep.

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A scream. Bang. Thud.

The boy woke up, startled, his blood shooting up his veins. He has not heard any sounds but his own and his family's for years.

Something is happening on the other side of the door. He can hear footsteps, murmuring in a manner of speech once familiar to him, but which he does not remember much of.

Quiet.

Sometime, a long time, passed. The boy is still standing there - huddled to the wall where he has all his drawings. His eyes focused on the door, unwavering.

Suddenly, he hears a click and the door opens. He can see a little bit of the hallway outside the room, but no one is out there. No one is coming in the room. Nothing happens.

The boy is now quivering, pressing his back harder to the wall. Oh, how much he wants the door to close again. How much he wants this all to end, how much he wants to hide his face in the embrace of mother.

He looks at his family, who all had frowns on their faces, they, too, were terrified. They turn to him with anxious expressions, and the whispers suddenly overwhelm him.

"Close" he hears a raspy voice coming from one of them. "Now!"

The boy closes his eyes. He hears the fast beating of his heart as if it is in his head not his chest. He can barely move.

It took a while until he gathered the courage to crawl towards the door. He approached with caution, and then when he reached the door, he raised his arm a little before hesitating. His breath is shallow, unsteady. Clearing his throat, he put his hand up again, ready to push the door shut.

But this time, he could not, someone suddenly holds his wrist.

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Hello everyone! this is writing4funzees, and I am here to practice some writing, but also I get sudden inspiration for stories and I am like "I wish I can tell someone about this so they can tell me what they think". So here I am. I am happy to hear your thoughts about this story, and maybe I can continue if it is good enough lol! looking forward to hear your thoughts!

P.S. I wrote this on a spur, so the grammar, and delivery may not be the best, it is more of like the concept that I was aiming for. But I would love feedback on anything as well :)