A story of a little boy and his father | Teen Ink

A story of a little boy and his father

February 27, 2015
By nan.sarkar BRONZE, Cupertino, California
nan.sarkar BRONZE, Cupertino, California
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments

It is a tall, dark building, so dark it seems to almost blend with the surrounding midnight-colored sky. Inside, there lays a maze of long, twisting hallways complete with sharp turns. This is a place of helplessness and panic, terror and insanity. It reeks of inhumane fear. Scary stories parents have come up with have been told numerous times to their small children to frighten them into being good. Many speculations have been made on what really goes on inside the tall building, but there is no truth to any of the rumors. No one has dared to enter the insane asylum; too terrified to even think about venturing into the unknown. The most popular theory is that ghosts in unrest haunt the building, and it is their screams that can be heard at any time of the day. That rumor is the closest to the truth of the dark building…

A scream can be heard echoing through the dark passageways. This in itself is not particularly uncommon, especially not at this time of night. This building has come to be avoided due to the ear-shattering screams that can be heard clearly, even from outside. Still, this scream is different from the ones that have been heard before. Unlike the fear and panic encased in previous yells, this is one encompassed of desperation and hopelessness. It originates from a man who is rocking back and forth, begging to be released from the cold metal bonds holding him down. Men in lab coats and surgical masks observe the man’s behavior stoically, taking down notes while talking quietly amongst themselves. The man only makes out snippets of the doctors’ conversations between his pleads. “...says.. ghosts…. compulsive..?... perhaps…. -nsane...”. ‘Oh’, the man thinks calmly, too tired to be surprised. ‘They’re talking about how crazy I am.’ The man’s screams cut off suddenly, and he lets his arms and legs go limp on the hard mattress he is bound to, too tired to try and get out of the asylum he has been locked in. The researchers notice the sudden change in the man and scribble down some notes on the patient’s uncharacteristic behavior. ‘What use is it anyways?’ The man questions himself, staring dully at the flat gray ceiling. ‘It’s not like they’re going to believe me, especially with them thinking I’m insane… Maybe I should just stop trying to warn them. Perhaps then these people will let me go. I just have to get away from it...’. Satisfied with his tentative plan, the man tries to get into a comfortable sleeping position. Just as he begins to move, the researcher in the lab coat closest to him flips the papers on his clipboard right side up. The other doctors follow suit, and are instructed to leave until the next morning. Their shift for recording observations on the limp man is finished. The man’s blood freezes and his veins turn to ice. ‘No, they can’t be leaving!’ He begins hyperventilating silently, drawing in large gasps of air with every breath. ‘I’ll be alone with it!’ The man’s train of thought causes the man’s breath to catch. By now, the doctors have left, switching off the lights, and the man is alone with his frenzied thoughts and the darkness.
An ethereal light brightens the dull room, growing stronger until the entire space is filled with the blue-ish white light. The man’s panic increases. Flashbacks of previous encounters with the source of the light runs through his mind. The man’s trembling increases as he remembers what it had always asked him. The light begins to solidify and it gradually takes the form of a young boy who couldn’t be older than 7 or 8. The little boy is strikingly similar to the man, but unlike him, the boy is grinning innocently, his eyes lit up upon seeing the man. “Hello, Father,” the child says happily. His smile fades a little as he looks down at the man who is now frozen with fear. “Were you playing hide-and-seek again, Father? I told you I didn’t like that game,” the boy scolds. “But if you want to play, you should come with me! We can play together forever, just the two of us! Don’t you wanna play with me?” The boy’s wide eyes gaze up at his father, a hopeful look on his face. ‘Why won’t he leave me alone?’ The man’s harried thoughts swirl around in his head, but the most clear one is ‘I have to get away from him. I have to…’ The little boy’s expression becomes slightly impatient and he begins tapping his foot in annoyance. The man knows he has no time- he has to get away now, or else he’d be forced to “play” with the ghostly imprint of his long dead son forever. The man’s eyes scan the room he is trapped in, noticing the small red button he has seen the doctors who hold him press when they lock or unlock his bonds. ‘How am I supposed to reach that? Maybe I can throw something at it? No, I may not hit it, and I can barely move my hands anyways… What can I do… think, think! There’s no way to get to it! Unless...’ His eyes flicker over to the impatient spirit, thinking quickly. “You know…” the man begins. “See that little red button there? If you press it, a game will come out, and you can play with it!” He tries to keep his shaky voice as steady as possible. The boy’s face brightens in in instant and he bounces in place excitedly. “Really? Really?!” He shrieks. He bounds over to the button and presses it once, staring at it and waiting for his game to come out. In this time, the man has been released from his bonds, and he quickly, but quietly makes his way out of the door, shutting it and locking it from the lock on the doorknob outside the room. The locked door will do nothing to stop the ghost from getting out of the locked room, but it will slow him down. Inside, the little spirit has been waiting for his game, but it hasn’t come out yet. He is confused, and turns around to ask his father where his game is, but finds the man gone. The boy stares at the now empty metal bonds for a few moments, but he then realizes exactly what the man’s absence means. The ghost’s knees hit the floor and he starts to cry. “Why did he leave me again? Why does he always leave me? Why doesn’t he ever wanna play with me?”
After running through the dark hallways, the man sees what has to be the exit. Throwing open the door, the sprints outside, only to be assaulted by bright sunlight. The now free man flings a hand over his eyes, squinting and hungrily drawing in the colors of the outside world he has been subjected from for approximately 2 months. However, he has no time to stop and admire his surroundings- he needs to get as far away as he can from the ghost of his son. There is no telling when the spirit will come in search of him again. Taking a deep breath, the man begins running again, not knowing exactly where he will go.
It has been many years since the man had been locked away in the insane asylum. He returned to his normal, quiet life, exactly as he had left it before his son had died, working as an average IT (Information Technology) member in a small business. He got up at 6 A.M., reached work at 7, and worked from then to 7 P.M. He went back home to read and watch the news before he ate dinner, went to sleep, and the whole process repeated itself again. His paranoia always remained high however, and he continuously looked behind him to see if he was being followed by any earthly spirits, specifically one of a little 7 or 8 year old boy. However, he had seen no trace of the child after the incident at the dark asylum. The only mention he’d ever heard of it after escaping was in a newspaper, which had been claiming that the doctors and workers of a nearby insane asylum had all been murdered in one night, but the mastermind behind the tragedy had not been found. The man was deeply unsettled, but went on with his life. He never married or had anymore children, afraid that the little boy’s ghost would come back and hurt anyone he was closely attached to or made as part of his family. But for some reason, the spirit never tried to find the man again, as if the ghost was waiting for something. The man’s life was quiet and lonely, devoid of friends, but he had lived it out peacefully for a full 80 years. He is tired of monotony and dullness of it. Today, finally, the man decides it is time. He takes a seat in his rocking chair on the porch of his small house which is located in the countryside, and waits. Sure enough, a small light appears directly in front of him, brightening until it is almost painful. It takes the form of his son, who still appears 7 or 8, the age he was at during the time of his untimely death so many years ago. The boy grins happily. For the first time since he has begun seeing the spirit, the old man smiles back. A bright light begins to glow from the man’s heart as the little boy holds out his slightly chubby hands to the man. The man grasps the small hands with his own bigger, rougher ones. The light inside of him increases, encasing the man fully in a matter of seconds. “Come on, Father,” the boy tugs on the man’s hands. “Forever. That’s all I want. Play with me forever, Father, we’ll have so much fun!” The man smiles again, listening serenely to the voice of the boy he had lost long ago. He closes his eyes, and the ethereal light explodes. When it fades, all that remains is the body of the man, who is sitting on his rocking chair, eyes shut firmly and a smile still on his lips. A light breeze runs through the countryside. If anyone was listening, they would have heard the faint voices of a little boy and his middle-aged father as they played, ready to spend their eternities together.



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