Outgrowing

The little boy was lying in bed with his head nestled against his soft pillow. The fan shifted back and forth, ruffling the edges of his blanket with its cool breeze. He stared up at the plain white ceiling and felt small. He was too minute in his body, in his bed, in this world. His brain was mushy and slow and his muscles ached. The blanket was too hot. and so he kicked and thrashed his way out of it. Frustration filled his little head. He didn’t fit. He stretched his feet, tensing the muscles in his calves. A yawn escaped. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep.

The boy rolled over on his side and slid his arm under his pillow. His hand jammed against the headboard of his bed and he scooted until he was free. Only now, his feet hung over the edge of his bed. He tucked his legs toward his body and curled into a ball. Something wasn’t right about him. He was full of unrest and dissatisfaction, a feeling of not belonging in his own skin. His brain was foggy and confused and so he rolled over once again onto his back and in doing so hit his head against the headboard. Why didn’t he fit? The boy sat up and flung his legs over the edge of his bed and his feet hit the floor. He fumbled for the cup of water on his nightstand and nearly knocked it over. The darkness played tricks with his eyes. He drank the water in an instant as if it were a mere sip.

The walls of his room were pressing in all around him. He didn’t fit here anymore. The boy got out of bed and put on a jacket and slippers. The normally comfortable hoodie felt tight and confining. He looked around his room at all his things and felt nothing. What was the point of his toys and his clothes and his games. None of them seemed to fit anymore.

He left his house and began walking down the street. He paused and looked back at his home. It seemed so small now, as though it were a doll house. He couldn’t live there anymore. What about his mom and dad? Could they still love him? He wouldn’t forget them but he had outgrown them.

The street he had grown up on and spent his whole life on seemed so tiny. There was a whole world to explore. He walked away from his neighborhood and with each step he took it got smaller and smaller. He could see the mountains in the distance and even they appeared small to him. He looked all around him and saw the ocean and the city and the long, long roads. But it was all too small for him. And so he looked upward towards the sky.

He had his head in the clouds and felt the cool mist. The stars awaited him. He took a deep breath and felt the gentle breeze of a sleeping world. He finally started to feel okay. As he looked down at the earth he stretched his hand and could almost hold it all in his palm. His friends and family and house and things all seemed to fade as would a dream upon awakening. He had loved it all but he had grown too much and no longer fit in. But there was quiet now. And sleep.

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Outgrowing was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

Hannah Didn't Care

Hannah didn’t care that it was cold outside. She wanted to wear her blue dress, the one with the stripes on it. But her parents were making a fuss about what she wore and Hannah didn’t understand why. She sat on the floor of her room with her dress bunched up at her feet, too preoccupied to change into the required outfit. Hannah’s hair obscured her vision as she leaned forward. The gray light of the winter sun cast pale shadows across her bedroom. The walls were painted blue and pink due to her mother’s impatience at preparing a room for their baby. Hannah’s parents were were busying themselves in the other room, she could see their movement between the strands of hair that hung about her face. She grabbed Bunson and Lady Lily in her arms and walked to the hall. The slatternly purple bear hung upside down at her side, his green neck tie dragging on the floor. Years of outdoor adventures had left him in a condition only a child could love. Lady Lily, Bunson’s orange unicorn companion who had an unfortunate habit of getting into trouble, was tucked snuggly under Hannah’s arm.

Get changed right now, her mother’s voice was bitter, we have to leave. Hannah didn’t like when her mother used that voice, it made her feel like she’d done something wrong, like she was in trouble. Normally Hannah would plead her case but her mother’s harsh eyes finished the conversation. Hannah pouted as she changed her outfit. Her father helped her strap on her shoes, Hannah wasn’t very good at that. She wore her fancy shoes today, the ones that were uncomfortable. Her father seemed distant but he dug up a smile for Hannah anyway. Hannah’s pale skin and dark features resembled her father more than her mother, but she could upset easily like her. Can I bring them, Hannah pleaded. Lady Lily pranced along her father’s knees before giving him a peck on the cheek. Her father picked up Bunson and manipulated his arms into tickling Hannah. She giggled and then snatched the bear away. Of course, sweetheart, said her father, let’s get going.

Hannah didn’t care about the conversation her parents were having as they drove. She sat in the backseat with her animal companions. Bunson was currently engaged in helping the Lily remove her head from beneath the seat belt. He didn’t begrudge her for it but he had to wonder why she seemed to consistently find herself in peril. The drive seemed to last forever for Hannah, she drifted in and out of sleep imagining vast dreamscapes. Shadows danced across her closed eyes as the sunlight filtered through tree branches.

She awoke to her father lifting her out of the car. She was still in between sleep and awake and didn’t notice that her stuffed animals had been left in the car. Hannah nestled her cheek against  her father’s shoulder and continued to dream. She was riding on Lily’s back through a vibrant grassy meadow. The wind whipped at Hannah’s striped blue dress as her skin drank up the warm rays of sunlight. Lily turned her head to speak with Hannah and failed to notice the danger ahead of them - Lily stumbled and fell down a dark hole. Hannah looked up and saw Bunson smiling courageously down at them. Hang on, I’ll get a rope, he shouted. Bunson disappeared from sight as curious voices began infiltrating Hannah’s dream. She was a kind woman and she will be missed. Her eldest son, John would now like to say a few words. Hannah opened her eyes as her father handed her to her mother. She gazed through sleep-addled eyes at a forest of faces behind her. Her father walked towards the front of the gigantic room and stood at a microphone. There was a statue of a man hanging from a cross directly above her father. Hannah didn’t like the statue, the look of despair in its eyes frightened her. The air was musty and particles of dust were dancing across the beams of light piercing down through the glass windows. Rows and rows of wooden benches just like the one on which Hannah’s mother sat lined the towering room. Everywhere she looked, people sat and stared at her father as he began to speak.

Hannah didn’t care about all of the people and all of the words. She was looking around frantically for Bunson and Lily. Mommy. Shhhh. Where are they? Hannah, be quiet. Hannah’s lip quivered and when her mother ignored her pleas, the floodgates were opened. Hannah’s cries echoed throughout the spacious hall causing heads to turn. Her mother picked her up and carried her out of the building, crying all the way. As they walked together towards the parking lot, Hannah saw the stone building diminish until it seemed as big as a dollhouse. Her mother opened up the car door and Hannah was reunited with her favorite purple bear. Bunson was facedown on the seat but Lily had gotten herself lost again. Hannah and Bunson found her underneath the cushion looking for a snack.

Adults were talking and hugging and crying and drinking. Hannah didn’t understand why they were all here nor why her father was crying. Hannah tugged on her father’s arm and he picked her up. She touched his face where it was wet. Her father smiled and kissed her on the cheek. Hannah didn’t care for all of this sadness.

Her bedroom was eclipsed in darkness except for the sliver of light radiating from the rooms beyond. Hannah was tired from the day’s expedition, she pulled her blanket up over her head and closed her eyes. Do you think she even grasped what was happening today? Hannah could hear her mother’s voice outside her bedroom door. She’s too young. How are you feeling? It’s a whirlwind, I still haven’t had time to process it. She loved you. I know. Her parents voices dissolved as Hannah fell into a dream. Her eyes flittered open for a moment and she saw Bunson and Lily staring back at her. Hannah pulled them closer and fell asleep.

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Hannah Didn't Care was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.

They Called Her Fangs

Alva watched the snail inch slowly across the dirt path in front of her. Her face showed no signs of emotion apart from a mechanical curiosity.

“Alva!” her mother called, “Alva! It’s time for supper.”

Alva’s gaze broke from the snail and from the corner of her eyes she looked out across the grassy field toward the house. She could see her mother standing on the porch, screen door open. Alva’s attention returned to the snail. She reached forward, peeled the snail off of the dirt, and held it up to her face to gaze at its soft underside. The snail recoiled into its shell. With her other hand, Alva poked the snail but this only caused it to retreat further. With a scientific delicacy, Alva squeezed its shell between her fingers until it started to crack.

“Alva!” her mother called out again with more fervor in her voice.

Alva looked back towards the house. She clenched her hand into a fist crushing the snail to paste and then rubbed it on the grass. She stood and trotted towards the house.

“There you are,” said her mother. “You’re filthy. Let’s get you inside.”

Alva stared vacantly at her mother.

The school bell rang and all the children shuffled outside to play. Mrs. Chattoway approached Alva and rested a hand on her shoulder. Alva started and withdrew from the teacher’s touch then quickly crammed her hands in her pockets.

“Don’t you want to go outside and play with the other children?”

Alva remained mute.

“Come on.” Mrs. Chattoway ushered Alva out the door.

The sunlight was momentarily blinding to Alva - she brought her small hands up to block the light. When her eyes refocused, she could see the other children standing opposite each other in two lines. One side was chanting.

“The needle’s eye that doth supply the thread that runs so true; I stump my tow, and down I go, All for the want of you.”

When they finished, a young boy from the opposite line charged the other group of children in an attempt to break through their line. He failed and was forced to join their side. Alva took a seat on the grass and ignored the children. The weather was warm and the gentle breeze carried the scent of summer.

“Move.”

Alva looked up and saw a larger boy glaring angrily down at her. Alva ignored him and went back to staring blankly.

“Hey, I said move. We’re going to play here.”

The boy kicked Alva in the side but she didn’t react.

“Get up.”

Alva remained stoic. The large boy bent down and gripped her by the collar of her shirt. As she was being dragged to her feet, Alva withdrew the pair of scissors from her pocket and shoved them into the boy’s neck. A scream of pain bubbled out of the boy’s mouth as he collapsed to the ground. The other children screamed and ran as Alva sat back down on the grass. The large boy writhed next to her choking on his own blood.

“We think this is the best course of action.” The bearded man in the lab coat spoke to Alva’s mother. “Her behavior is erratic and she is a danger to everyone including herself.”

Alva could hear her mother’s sobs though no intelligible words were uttered. Her mother was escorted out of the room and out of sight.

Alva lay on the bed staring up at the white lights. Her head was strapped in place and her arms were bound. She struggled against her restraints. Alva uttered a guttural scream when she saw the bearded man staring down at her. She clawed the bed sheet as hard as she could. The man disappeared and shut the door leaving Alva alone. She screamed again and again but her voice was muffled by the padded walls of the white room.

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They Called Her Fangs was written by Daniel Weinell with illustrations by Maribel Navarro.

Chocotastic and the Land of Sweets

Once upon a time in the land of sweets there was a candy bar named Chocotastic. He wasn't like all the other candies. Choco was small and bitter. He couldn't help the way he was; it was how he'd always been. All the other candies made fun of him for being different and this made Choco sad. One day, after some particularly bad verbal abuse, Choco decided that he had had enough. He packed up his little knapsack and left home. He ventured far beyond the border of the land of sweets into the great world beyond. He traveled far and wide until he finally reached a great big city. The buildings were bigger than anything he'd ever seen. He wandered the streets avoiding the feet of particularly large people. After wandering and wandering Choco became very tired and decided to lie down in a park. He awoke to the sound of a child's laughter.

“What are you doing little candy bar?” asked a boy.

Choco sat up and looked at his addressor. The boy had ginger blond hair and was wearing overalls.

“I am very tired.” Choco said, “I have traveled quite far and I miss my home. The people there are mean to me because I'm different.”

The boy moved his face closer to the candy bar to get a better look.

“Not me,” said the boy, “I'm fairly average when it comes to humans. I have a close circle of playmates and I'm fairly high up on the social ladder.”

Choco stared blankly back at the boy.

“Oh.”

“You can see where I'd have a hard time commiserating with you in that regard.”

“Yes,” said Choco, “Though I was hoping to find someone I had more in common with...”

“Well I do love candy,” said the boy.

“You do?!” Choco's candy coated heart began to thump rapidly with excitement.

“Well yeah,” replied the boy, “Every kid loves candy.”

Choco smiled. This was the greatest news he'd heard since he had left the land of sweets. Finally he had found a place where he belonged. Gone were the days of being berated for being different. He could now look forward to a life of happiness. This was a world where candy was revered, even the small and bitter ones. The boy reached down, picked Choco up, and lifted him so they were eye to eye.

“I just want to say,” said Choco, “how much I appreciate our friendship. I never thought I'd...wait, what are you doing?”

The boy opened his mouth wide and popped Choco in. He began to chew but immediately regretted doing so. What a bitter taste, he thought. Not the best candy he had ever eaten. The boy spit Choco out and tried to scrape the flavor off of his tongue.

“Timmy, what are you doing?” the boy's mother yelled. “How many times do I have to tell you not to eat things you find on the ground?”

She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him along. From the ground Choco watched them walk away and he was happy. He'd finally found someone who loved him, if only for a small while. Choco smiled as a boot obscured his vision. A disturbing squishing sound was the last thing Choco perceived.

“Ew gross,” said the owner of the boot as he scraped his footwear clean.

The End

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Chocotastic was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.