Stone Silent

Alan Long

Stone stood in silence, the crisp darkness enclosed around his five-year-old
body. He had seen the door before he closed it, now however he only saw black,
his hand reached out but he could not make out the door. The only thing he felt…
was alone.

There was a crash outside the door and the sound of feet scuffling. Stone
shrunk away from the door he didn’t know why he was scared but he knew
something was not right. Step by step he backed into a corner, still facing the
direction that the crash had come from. He shrunk in size as he crouched into the
dark corner trying to find comfort in the cold wooden walls.

The last words his mother told him still rang in his head. “Go get mommy
some cookies from the closet.” Now that he thought about it, there were no cookies
in the closet, he was not thinking about it then he was just glad to have cookies this
late, even past his bedtime. But now he thought about it and was wondering why
his mom had sent him into such a dark room? More importantly, why was there a
crash?

“Please don’t go in the closet.” It was the sound of his mother. Stone could
tell she was crying even though he couldn’t see her; the frequent sobs were
distorting her once sweet and tender tone. “You can have anything you want in this
house, please. No. I’m begging you.”

Stone had never heard his mother this way before. Tears began to blur his
vision and slowly a small stream began to form on his cheeks. So many questions
were popping into his head. He ducked his head into his knees and rubbed his
temples with his hands trying to escape the torture his life had become.

“Move lady, and next a simple robber comes into your house, don’t let him
know where your most valuable treasure is.” The brusque voice erupted into the air
with the authority that only came with violence.

“Please… NO… anywhere but the closet, please.”

“Lady move!”
 “NO!”

The shriek that followed froze Stone’s blood and with that his mom’s
sobbing abruptly ceased to fill the air, Stone could still hear them echo in his mind.

Footsteps were getting louder. Someone was coming towards the door.

The footsteps stopped out side the door.

The door handle started to turn.

The door creaked.

It opened.

A man stood in the now opened doorway. Only a small lamp gave off its
feeble luminescence in the room. Stone saw a figure lying on the ground; blood-
stained-long-blonde hair covered the body’s face.

The man looked at Stone, still curled into his corner. Sadness overshadowed
the man’s face as he reflected on the childhood he was once had, the life he had
been driven to. Tears mixed with the blood that dripped from his hands as the man
collapsed from exhaustion, and he lay motionless never to move again.