Just A Little Boy

Just a little boy, what can he do? Nothing much, not much at all. It's’ not that he doesn't want to
do much, he just can't… do much. Just a little boy, a little boy, a little boy, a little boy.

“Whatś your name little boy”, proclaimed the man.

“My name? Uh, My name is Tom”, replied the little boy.

“Is that really your name?”

“No, the little boy, replied with a frown.”

“Come with me, little boy.”

“No, no, no, mommy told me not to tal-.”

“The little boy interrupted, Listen! I will not do the same routine. Now come with me.”

The little boy terrified followed the mischievous man. What could have he done, nothing?
Maybe fight back, no no, of course not the man is 3 times the little boy in size. Maybe he would
have run. No, of course not the little boy is enfeebled; his right leg is broken. Maybe cried for
help, no, why would he, no one knows him; heś an orphan. Why am I telling you this? Well
because heś just a little boy and he can't do much, but then again he is just a boy like every other
boy why should he matter.

As long as the little boy can remember he was always shy, or was he, or was he confident?
Maybe, mentally ill, well we know for sure that he is ill. Who is this little boy? The little boy
always liked to play, always. At times he would get annoying, but no one knows the little boy, so
how did he play, who did he play with? The little boy was just a boy in a small town, and lived
all alone, with no one with him. Don't feel bad for the little boy, he’s just a boy, insignificant in
the eyes of the world and the 1 billion people on the planet; millions of little boys just like him,
he is truly worthless.

It’s been a few hours now, what will the boy do, what will happen to the little boy? For a
particularly weird reason, this experience of being kidnapped reminds him of reminds him of
playing lacrosse, his favorite sport. This little boy is very peculiar.

“Pass the ball, the little boy shouted”.

The little boy was breathing heavily participating in fun physical activities.

“GOAL” The little boy cheered with glee. “Good game everyone, good game”.
There was no one there, very strange; a summer in 1920 every child should be playing outside,
but no one knows the little boy, quite sad, sad indeed. Again that does not matter he is just a little
boy. The little boy frustrated breaks his lacrosse stick; frustrated no one was around him, and that
no one cared. No one cared at all for this little boy.

While the man was walking the boy to the destination, the little boy saw an old lady. He shouts
with the top of his lungs. Calling on the lady pleading for help. Asking for some assistance with
the situation his in.

“PLEASE, HELP!” the little boy shouting.

The old lady did not respond. Nor did the man taking him.

Why? The little boy is pleading for help, but no one is helping him. The boy thought to himself
maybe she’s ill and can't hear him. However, that was not the case; she didn't even acknowledge
him; him even neglecting. The old lady had a ferret, not as a friend, but as entertainment. She
was throwing stones at the ferret, particularly two small blue ones, repeatedly, till the ferret lost
one of its eyes. The old lady laughing, at the ferret, while the ferret just stood there, taking the
stones, almost smiling. The little boy wanted to help the ferret, the little boy wanted to switch
places with this ferret.

Now they were crossing a bridge, below it a fast moving river; close to the destination. The little
boy thought to himself maybe I can jump off this bridge and the water will save me. The boy did
it, this stupid little boy did it. He jumped off the bridge he felt ecstatic about doing it. So much so
that he was screaming with glee. However the man heard the boy and caught him, the man
frustrated at the little boy scolded the boy as a son.

“WHY, WOULD YOU DO THAT!”, the man howling.

“To get away from you!”, the little boy responding.

“Then go on then, go, leave, ask for help”.

The little boy had an opportunity to run away to safety to finally go back-to-. There was a
thought to the little boy’s little brain, that thought was occupied by examining a billboard near to
the bridge. With text written on it. The little boy reading, “A fathers love is what a boy
deserves.” at that moment the man started walking with the boy again with the man.

They reached the man’s house, the man’s home. They say a man’s home is his castle. On the
other hand, this home was not a home, it was a shed. The only intriguing thing about this shed
was that it had a red door. Why the red door, among this dirty place with, dirty, dirty animals.
There was a perfectly clean red door. You can spot this door for hundreds of miles; like a golden
feather in piles of whites. With every step, the little boy’s anxiety started rising. His veins inflate
with the fear that he had. Animals staring: goats, sheep, rabbits, felines. Peculiar for barn
animals, this mad the little boy not only afraid, terrified; his heart pounding with every second.

….

….

….

They reached the door, there was staring letter on the door, the boy
examines, “あなたは問題ではありません。”(you don’t matter). The boy
confused but still felt depressed. The man used the shed key; acquired
it from a box of keys which he obtained from the ground. They enter.

The little boy knew what was coming, he was afraid, terrified even. With a belt coming out, the
man howled, “you’re my boy now so act like it”, with the man acquiring a smile, not of
happiness, but a mischievous one, one with killer intent, one with relief he finally got his pray.
The little boy’s broken leg turned into a popped vein, his innocence turned into maturity, the
little boy was now a little man. Abused the boy was happy, not happy that he’s getting abused
but filled with joy for someone caring, someone finally caring for the boy, just a little boy.