Boy in the Park

Polly knew she shouldn't have run off from her nurse, but the idea was simply too tempting, and she had gotten bored of sitting on the bench "getting fresh air." So she had slipped off to play. Now she was watching a strange boy who was sitting in the middle of the sandy footpath. He was crouched over and, though she could not see his face due to the hood of his coat, she could have sworn he was staring at the dirt.

“Whatcha’ doing?” She finally asked.

Large green eyes deep-set in a pale face looked up at her. They seemed strangely wary of her.

“You look like you’re fooling around in the dirt.” She mentioned helpfully. “I wondered why.”

The eyes relaxed. “I guess you could call it that.” The boy responded. “I didn’t think of it quite that way. Creations are dearest to the creator, I guess.”

He swept the baggy folds of his weathered rain coat back to reveal the spot he had been staring at. Polly saw lines scratched out in the dirt. It seemed to be some form of crude drawing.

“What is it?” She asked with the curiosity natural to children.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you.” The boy grunted. “But I realize my art skills are none of the best.”

Polly opened her mouth to apologize but the boy gave her no chance. “It might help if you tilted your head so you could see it from my point of view.”

“Oh, of course.” Polly eagerly twisted her neck around to look at it.

“This is the dragon.” The boy pointed. “And over here stands the warrior. He’s protecting the little boy crouched over by the rock.” The boy made a gesture to another group of drawings. “The boy came from a village the dragon destroyed. The warrior adopted him as his squire. The boy is actually a prince, but the warrior doesn’t know that.” He looked up to see if the strange little girl was bored yet.

Polly, wondering why he had stopped, looked up too. She nodded eagerly to show she followed the story.

The boy looked at her a trifle oddly. “Don’t you have to be anywhere?”

“No.” Polly shook her head, puzzled. “I’m just playing around here.”

The boy stared at her for a second, than returned to the drawing. “So, the dragon is actually a sorcerer, and he’s planning to overthrow the kingdom. The warrior and his squire have to collect certain artifacts before the sorcerer can get to them…”

The story went on for quite some time. It had castles and charlatans, danger and drama. Otherworldly powers stepped forth and interested themselves in the warrior and his squire. The dragon was slain, only to rise again. Polly listened, fascinated, as the world rushed about her. Once, a passing businessman jostled her and startled her from the happy dream, and she stared after him with a wrathful indignation. How dare he interrupt such an important matter! But she quickly forgot it again in the world of the story.

“…So eventually the squire cuts out the heart of the sorcerer and avenges his master’s death. The people raise him up on their shoulders and make him king, and that is the end.” The boy finished scratching out the last drawing. The progression of the tale had forced him to wipe out his old pictures and make new ones. He glanced up, apparently surprised to see her still there.

“Are there any girls?” Polly asked. She was delighted with this new entertainment. It was almost better than the time she spent in the library. To hear a story told by a live person lent a new element to the experience.

“No. No girls.” The boy seemed very certain of the fact.

“No girls?” Now Polly was bewildered. What good was a story without girls?

“None.”

It seemed a matter of indifference to the boy, but to Polly it was a dreadfully crucial issue. “But surely the squire needs someone to look out for him after the warrior dies.”

“No, he doesn’t.” The green eyes glared at her with a strange intensity. “He doesn’t need anyone. He can look out for himself.”

“But he needs someone.” Polly insisted. “It’s like… you know, parents. Even if you don’t like everything they tell you, you do like to know that they care about you.”

“I don’t have parents.” The boy returned his gaze to the dirt.

******

Whew, lotsa writing. But it was fun.

Again, not the greatest picture but it gives me a reason to keep posting here. And I do kinda like the story with this. There's a lot more with this boy and girl than you get in this selection, but we won't go into that.