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"SSC19 - Eternal Youth"

My old cot sits in front of me; dust and webs are starting to reform around the gaps of the bars I used to peer out of, a strong smell of oak accompanies the bare sheets crumpled in the corner, slightly torn in parts and musty from lack of use. Sweet memories of growing up come flooding back; desperately trying to reach the top of the cot to freedom, as time went on my pointing finger would get closer, until I could finally find my way out.

Then the world was mine to play with, I remember specifically one toy I loved, hidden beneath my cot in a large chest that held my few belongings. It was nothing special to others, just a rubber hammer that made a squeaky noise, but I had many adventures with the help of that tool. Sometimes I’d come across a vicious panther that needed to be defeated (or our cat, as she is now known). I’m sure Tigger didn’t appreciate getting a whack on the back by a drooling child whilst in the middle of a deep sleep.

Now all my memories lay compact in that one bed. But dwelling will get me nowhere, it’s been some four years since that last came to any use. I’m a grown up now, and as such it is my responsibility to ensure that I don’t revert to my childish roots. If not for my sake, then for that of my family; I’m the man of the house, and I must uphold a general rule.

These responsibilities don’t come without inevitable stress, you must understand. Every grown up needs to relax, keeping eyes on my little sister is a very demanding job, and as such I need something to relieve myself. I remember when I was a child; I would sit in the kitchen after an escape, staring up at the pottery jar with its lid slightly at an angle, letting the scent of sweetness reach my nostrils, and I would dream of growing up and eventually reaching it. I tried many times, but every time resulting in an accident; a bruised leg was just one of the many horrific accidents that took place in those struggling days.

I drag the nearby stool over to kitchen bench, accompanied by a screech as it grazes the tiles. As always, I can perfectly reach the holy grail ahead of me. Reaching inside my hands are met with great warmth; newly baked chocolate brownies, for our grandmother coming for dinner this evening no doubt. I munch away much to my delight and reach further into the jar; nothing more today, nothing but crumbs tickle my palm, seeking out more food.

I carefully place the jar on its side on the tiles and set off to search out our beloved Tigger. My sister catches my eye as I’m about to leave, and a look of malice sweeps over her naïve face, before rushing off. Looks like a change in plan this time, but I have the upper hand; I can reach the sink, meaning my hands won’t give me away. I quickly move the chair back, water dripping to the tiles, before setting off.

You see, I’m working on the inside; I know my way around this house better than she ever will, and of course I checked where Mum was before I started my mission. This situation has arose many times before, but because I have gained trust of other grown ups, she’s never succeeded.

As I move on, Mum comes into view, sitting in the living room, as my sister trails behind just below the stairs.

I’ll get to her just before Dawn…

Really? I much prefered my last one, thought this kinda sucked.

Thanks for the comment. (Y)

Very nice change of pace from the usual storis on this forum. I liked this a LOT more than your last story, the mild sense of adventure you imply is very convincing and realistic.

My old cot sits in front of me; dust and webs are starting to reform around the gaps of the bars I used to peer out of, a strong smell of oak accompanies the bare sheets crumpled in the corner, slightly torn in parts and musty from lack of use. Sweet memories of growing up come flooding back; desperately trying to reach the top of the cot to freedom, as time went on my pointing finger would get closer, until I could finally find my way out.

Then the world was mine to play with, I remember specifically one toy I loved, hidden beneath my cot in a large chest that held my few belongings. It was nothing special to others, just a rubber hammer that made a squeaky noise, but I had many adventures with the help of that tool. Sometimes I’d come across a vicious panther that needed to be defeated (or our cat, as she is now known). I’m sure Tigger didn’t appreciate getting a whack on the back by a drooling child whilst in the middle of a deep sleep.

Now all my memories lay compact in that one bed. But dwelling will get me nowhere, it’s been some four years since that last came to any use. I’m a grown up now, and as such it is my responsibility to ensure that I don’t revert to my childish roots. If not for my sake, then for that of my family; I’m the man of the house, and I must uphold a general rule.

These responsibilities don’t come without inevitable stress, you must understand. Every grown up needs to relax, keeping eyes on my little sister is a very demanding job, and as such I need something to relieve myself. I remember when I was a child; I would sit in the kitchen after an escape, staring up at the pottery jar with its lid slightly at an angle, letting the scent of sweetness reach my nostrils, and I would dream of growing up and eventually reaching it. I tried many times, but every time resulting in an accident; a bruised leg was just one of the many horrific accidents that took place in those struggling days.

I drag the nearby stool over to kitchen bench, accompanied by a screech as it grazes the tiles. As always, I can perfectly reach the holy grail ahead of me. Reaching inside my hands are met with great warmth; newly baked chocolate brownies, for our grandmother coming for dinner this evening no doubt. I munch away much to my delight and reach further into the jar; nothing more today, nothing but crumbs tickle my palm, seeking out more food.

I carefully place the jar on its side on the tiles and set off to search out our beloved Tigger. My sister catches my eye as I’m about to leave, and a look of malice sweeps over her naïve face, before rushing off. Looks like a change in plan this time, but I have the upper hand; I can reach the sink, meaning my hands won’t give me away. I quickly move the chair back, water dripping to the tiles, before setting off.

You see, I’m working on the inside; I know my way around this house better than she ever will, and of course I checked where Mum was before I started my mission. This situation has arose many times before, but because I have gained trust of other grown ups, she’s never succeeded.

As I move on, Mum comes into view, sitting in the living room, as my sister trails behind just below the stairs.

I’ll get to her just before Dawn…