Fiction: Missing Child 1

And then I sat down on my couch, quite unsure of what to do with myself. There was a buzzing in my head that told me that I really need to do something – just something to keep me occupied.

My hands immediately reached  for the lampshade cord. With it, they twiddled around and weaved it through themselves into knots. But I realised that this was not the something I needed to do. Fiddling wasn’t substantial. Fiddling is what you do when you wanted to think, and right now, thinking was something I didn’t particularly feel like doing.

My roommate passed by me and stared for just a moment at the inactive television. My eyes then darted up and looked directly into his chocolate brown ones, studying an familiar look.

“Not watching television? Are you tired?”

I liked my roommate. He was kind and considerate and never made me feel uncomfortable, no matter what information I had to share. But this time, the lie slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, and once I’d said, “Just a little bit,” I was rather fine with not doubling back and changing my answer.

It was always like this. I gave the exact same answer every night since…

The man gave a hard look before continuing on his way to the kitchen. What commenced was a bout of silence that somehow seemed quite a lot louder than the talking had. It may have been the steady whining in my ear, that you could always hear when things were almost unbearably quiet.

I sniffed. The room was dusty; I hadn’t done one particular part of my housework routine – the vacuuming – in over a month. I was getting slack and I knew it, but I honestly couldn’t bring myself to bring out that old machine and use it to suck up the grit. I needed something to occupy myself, but I knew that it was not going to be the vacuuming. After all, vacuuming was something to be avoided, to procrastinate on…

If the silence wasn’t as deathly as it was, I would not have heard the only other person in the apartment whisper under his breath, “You always seem to be just a little bit tired…”. It sounded sceptical, but the words were also carefully laced with not just worry, but longing, too…

From all I’d told him in the past month, I was just having long days at work and nothing more than that. Truth be told, I was having long days at work, and it had been getting harder and more… I didn’t want to think about it. I really didn’t.

After unsuccessfully working with the child for a month, the confidence I’d once had had really drained out of my body. He needed my help, desperately. But I couldn’t provide it. Oh, the boy was there, sitting. But the boy? The boy?

He was inexplicably gone…



  1. December 17, 2009 at 4:01 pm

    This is intense…I want to know so much more! Excellent writing.

    • kyuun said,

      December 17, 2009 at 11:15 pm

      Thank-you, I’m very glad to hear that! I’ll try to churn some more words out today. :)

  2. Alyssa said,

    December 19, 2009 at 7:28 am

    I think we’re in the same boat, lol. I took have a proverbial child that needs rescueing, but nothing’s coming from it. :)
    Good luck with turning out those words!! you can do it. :) Make Time.


    • kyuun said,

      December 20, 2009 at 12:28 pm

      Heheh. Well, I hope something’s going to come for it. My protagonist will come for this kid, but the poor guy’s going through the wringer, first. *wry grin*
      Thanks! I’m trying to make time, but I always seem to find time for something else, y’know? I’ll see what I can do. :)

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