Hope Painter

Professor McConnel
Creative paper
14 October 2018
The lost boy

It was a mistaken opportunity that lead him on a journey. A route like no other, and in the
mist of being one thing, had led him to be another, and so on. The cycle continued like a never-
ending hour class. There I sat rewriting his piece, an unraveled mystery. My mind wonders of all
the possibilities, but the endless amount of questions remain unanswered…

The hills are beautiful, swept with green and painted with a magnifying beauty which
I’ve never seen before. I have no idea why I received a phone call of this job opportunity, but
here I am, resting in a cabin along the greenbrier river. Its fall here, and the weather is mad. One
minute it’s hot like a summer day, and the next it feel as if it’s the middle of winter. I can’t
complain though, I have no family, and spend most of my life writing it away like paper in the
wind. One minute I’m here and the next gone. I can remember that day like it was yesterday,
when I received the phone call of this job opportunity. I thought to myself, “I never receive any
phone calls.” I am a loner, and so the sound of the telephone still echoes in my ears.

The voice answered, “Hello Mr. Wise, how are you?”

“Who is this?” I reply

“I am no one, but you are someone, and we would love for you to come to a cabin beside the
greenbrier river to write a story. The pay is great, if you complete this book, you will be set for
life sir.”

Thinking this was some mistake I replied, “No.” slinging the phone down.

I thought they must have the wrong person, but then again, I am here. I’m sitting in a
cabin that lies along the Green Brier river, writing my life away, one chapter at a time. After the
phone call, I ended up taking the job. I just finished my last book, City Circle, and needed money
to live and had nothing better to do, therefore I took the opportunity. I have been stuck in the life
of Casey, a young man searching for his lost lover, though I have no lover, Casey did, and
therefore, I very much had a lover. See, here we are, looking at the beautiful mountains of West
Virginia.

I grab my red notebook, the diary of my life, and proceed to write about my
surroundings.

“West Virginia is beautiful and though it seems to be cut off from the rest of the world, it is still
very much alive and well. I can feel the warm breeze and smell the scent of nature. I sit and stare
at the beauty it holds. “

I get up. I am so relaxed up here in the mountains that I start to drift off into a daze.
Writing has never been so hard. Maybe it’s because this place is new and intriguing, there is too
much to write about, and my mind is running endlessly. This makes me feel overwhelmed. I
need to take a little nap to gather my thoughts. I walk back in the cabin and looking to my left I
noticed a picture that I didn’t see before. It’s a picture of a young women holding a picture of her
mother, who is also holding a picture of her mother, and inside the picture of her mother, who is
also holding a picture of her mother and the cycle continues. But my thoughts are interrupted
when I hear a knock at the door. (Knock, knock)

I think to myself, who in the world is here, I am supposed to be left alone. What in the world is
wrong with people?

I answer the door. A woman stands in front of me, as beautiful as ever.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mr. Wise, I am here to check on you, I know you are here to find the missing boy, and I’m
here to help.”

I wanted to tell her no, that she had the wrong person. I am here to write about West
Virginia, and I have no clue who the missing boy is, but her beauty was too much for me. I
wanted to spend more time with her. I have been alone for so long. Ever since my fiancé died, I
have no interest in anyone. But there is something about her, and I need to entertain my thoughts.
In this moment in time, I become someone I’m not.

“Okay, come in!” The women is stunning, and I can’t stop staring.
“Mr. Wise, I am here to show you these secret documents, the boy, whom you know is missing,
needs your help. You see we searched everywhere, and we need your open mind and expertise to
figure it out. We believe someone has taken him. His name is Runni, he is the father of my son.
The man is crazy, insane, and will try to outsmart you. But you cannot let that happen. I believe
in you.”

I could feel the woman’s emotion radiate off her and onto me, and I feel an
overwhelming sadness. Maybe it is because of my past or maybe it’s because I feel a deep
connection to her.

“Miss., I will do everything in my power to find your son.”

I grab the documents from her hand and began to look through them. The pages are
details about the mad man, a picture of him, but nothing about the lost boy. In this moment I feel
in control, and I knew I must find the lost boy. I look up, and she is staring at me so intently,
with a softness in her eyes. I can’t help but think about grabbing her in my arms, but I decide
against it. I feel like the inner Casey is starting to come out of me, but I must control it.

I look at her and say, “I will go through every detail and will let you know my findings
as soon as possible. Will you be stopping by to see me or can I have your number?”

The women responded with delight, “I will stop by tomorrow around noon, if that’s fine?”

Trying not to sound too excited, I said, “Yes, sounds like a plan!”

The woman leaves, and I cannot stop thinking about her beauty. I crave the opportunity
to make love to her, but there are more important things to think about. I begin to read through
the documents again. I eye an address of the mad man. After googling the location on my
iPhone, I realize it is not far from my cabin, and I decide to walk there.

As I am walking, I cannot help but notice the number of mountains that surround me. It is
like I am trapped in a nature maze that has no escape route. I keep walking and walking, and
finally in a distance I see a small shack. The shack is a piece of the mountain. It doesn’t stand
out, but blends in. I know this is the place.

I grab a pair of binoculars that I had stuck in my pocket before walking out the door and
begin to spy on this man. I feel insecure, but I think about the beautiful woman that needs me. At
this moment, these feelings fade. Looking through the binoculars I catch the first glimpse of the
man. He looks homeless, dressed in shaggy clothing, and a long beard hangs from his chin. The
man stumbles outside with a liquor bottle in his hand.

He begins singing, “Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are, up above the world
so high, like a diamond in the sky, twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are!”

He looks like the typical drunk, but as I watch him, something seems off. I’m not sure
why, but I feel as if he’s pretending to be someone he’s not. Does he know someone is watching?
Is he trying to fool me? I have no idea, but I keep observing him. The sun begins to fall, and
darkness is taking over. I walk back to the cabin. After putting thought into it, I decide I would
sneak in the man’s house while he slept. I need some information to impress the beautiful
woman

I am walking this unending maze once again, but this time it is very different. Nothing
looks the same as it had before, it is like a stepping stone into a different world. The only objects
I see are through the projection of light that I hold from my flashlight. Every detail of my
surroundings seems more important than it did the first time. Instead of focusing on so many
things, I could zone in to smaller parts more carefully. I stop right before walking in the man’s
shack, and notice a paper sticking out from a tree. I grab it and realize that it belongs to the lost
boy. I do not know how I know, but I can feel it. The paper is a map with a location. I knew right
then and there I had to follow it.

I take the first flight to New York, and before I know it I am standing at an apartment. A
man named Auster lives here, I have no idea why the map has led me here, but I question him
about the lost boy. He tells me that he knows nothing of a lost boy, but of a lost man. He tells me
a story about a man who he had let down. I begin to feel angry, because he had troubled this
man. We walk to the 67th apartment, and I find a red notebook that lays in the center of an empty
room. I take the notebook and return to the cabin in West Virginia. I begin to write, “The City of
Glass.”

This is the ending of Mr. Wise’s story, for I have not seen him since. After receiving an
odd phone call from a friend of mine, I had no choice but to come here. He tells me about the
man he had left in a cabin to write a story, and that man is now missing. I walk in the cabin that
lies along the Greenbrier river, and what I find is a red notebook…