"Lost and Found" by Glen Vomacka
copyright © 1997

Legs pumping, the young boy flung himself headlong down the street. A streetlight, high overhead, puddled its soft yellow light down upon the ground. Crumbling brick buildings, decorated by graffiti, stood left and right. The moon and stars were somewhere above, yet hidden by the vile, black storm-clouds. Lighting flashed in the distance, illuminating the rats and garbage that the streetlight scorned. Thunder rolled across the sky, but he never heard it; not above his heart beat.

On and on he ran. Sweat mixed with the rain as he desperately tried to escape what lay in the other direction. Turning, he stopped and chanced a look backwards...and there was nothing. Eyes watering, he scanned the street...still nothing.

Ducking into an alley, he curled up under an overhanging ledge. It held back the rain, but still his teeth chattered; both from cold and from fear. Fidgeting, he began to cry.

* * * * * * * * * *

"C'mon. C'mon you wussy. Weakling. You're just a little girl, that's all. Go home, little girl. Go play with your dolls."
"I am not!"
"What are you going to do, little girl, go home to mommy?"
"Don't call me that. Leave me alone!"
"Little girl"
"Stop it. Leave me alone, or I'll..."
"You'll what, hit me? C'mon little girl, hit me. Right here on the chin."
Hesitation fluttered through Bobby's mind. He was scared, more scared then he had ever been. The taunting had never been this bad before.
"I didn't think you could do it. You're just a big wussy, that's all. My little sister could beat you, wussy. But then, you'd probably just play with her dolls, wouldn't you."
Thin streams of water began to run down Bobby's face. His eyes blurred and his vision wavered.
"Look, he's crying! Look everyone, I made the little girl cry! I'm sorry, little girl, I didn't mean it."
"Just leave me alone. Go away!" he screamed.
"Gonna make me? Huh, make me go away, little girl. You can't. You already tried, you sissy!"
Just then, somewhere, something snapped. Down deep, part of Bobby's mind refused this to continue. He went berserk. Wildly, he began to kick and punch. He lost complete control and could barely even see what he was doing. It was as if he had reduced to his primordial instincts, and rage flew across his thoughts. Tears streamed down his face in profusion as he screamed in anguish, "Leave me alone. Leave me alone!" over and over.

The other little boy's eyes grew wider and wider with every passing second. He tried to scramble out of the way of Bobby's flailing arms and legs, but the onlookers just stood there, transfixed, preventing escape. Soon, blood began to flow from his nose and stained the ground. He threw up his arms to protect himself as he fell to the ground.

Just then a teacher tore his way to the two boys and held Bobby from the other. Another teacher arrived to see to the "victims" wounds.
Bobby vaguely heard some words from the teacher's mouth, but could not discern them. His tears began to dry, leaving trails of salt upon his cheeks. Slowly, he began to regain conscious thought, "...and I want you both to go to the principal right now!" were the only words he understood of the teachers reprimand.

The two young boys stalked off, and Bobby caught the look in his class-mates eyes. Admiration or fear, it could have been either one. That was the last time he was ever picked on.
 

It was late. The moon hung suspended in the sky, surrounded by inky darkness. Pinpricks of light broke the monotony of the dark heavens. Young Bobby Wanton was just arriving home from boyhood activities with his friends.

"Where the hell have you been?! Your mother has been worried sick about you."
"I was just out playing with my friends, dad."
"You were supposed to be home hours ago!! After I made a fool of myself by calling the police. What am I supposed to say, 'Sorry Officer, my son is just an idiot, or I'm sorry, he just doesn't have a responsible bone in his body' Do you have any idea how bad this makes me look."

"Dad, I-"
"And what's all this I hear about a fight?"
"Well, at school this guy was picking on me."
"Who threw the first punch? that's all I want to know"
"I did."
"That tears it! What did I tell you about fighting. Do you even remember, huh, what did I say?"
"You said, you said to never start a fight, only to defend myself"
"Oh, so glad you can think, now. What the hell happened at school, did you lose your brain?"
"No dad, just, just-"
"Am I just a failure as a father, is that it? Do I not discipline you enough? Well, I will from now on. You're grounded for two weeks, no T.V., no nintendo, no nothing! You got me?"
"Yes dad."
"And don't you ever come home late again or start another fight, you hear me! I mean it, otherwise it'll be a month!"
"Yes, dad"
"Now go to your room, you don't get dinner tonight."
"Yes, dad."
Turning, Bobby made his way up the stairs to his room. Closing the door behind him, the tears he was holding back burst out. Warm rivulets of salty water streamed down his cheeks. Low sobbing came from beneath his pillow, not fully muted.

It's not fair. I hate him! I hate it here. I want to be on my own, no rules, no stinking parents. It's just not fair. I hate him, I hate him.

Suddenly, his tears dried up. He had come up with a plan. His face contorted into an toothy smile. His dad wouldn't ever tell him what to do again. He'd be sorry, they'd all be sorry.

* * * * * * * * * *

Outside, all was calm. The silence was occasionally broken by a bird crying, but for the most part, all was quiet. The moon shined down it's light, seemingly brighter then ever before. It was like a warning, kid, you don't know what you're doing. Stay home, you don't know what you've got. Of course, Bobby never even saw it. He finished stuffing some clothes into his backpack. After that came the dinner he hadn't eaten, along with some other provisions. He figured that was all he needed. Except for one last thing. Searching around in his closet, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out an old shoebox and took off the lid.

Inside the box were a few dollars, some baseball cards, candy and other assorted things. Bobby grabbed them all and stuffed them into his pack. They were everything he valued most.

Double-checking to make sure his parents were asleep, Bobby opened the back door and snuck out into the night. The wind was blowing slightly, but it wasn't cold. In the distance towered the skyscrapers and high-risers of the city. It was for these he set his path. Once he got to the city, he would truly be free. Taking one last look at his house, he turned and walked away.

Soon, his house was out of sight. He didn't notice, though. He never looked back. Through his mind ran all sorts of adventures. They were the typical things a young boy might dream of. He would go to sleep when he wanted, eat what he wanted, do what he wanted. Life would be perfect. There would be no-one to tell him what to do or what not to do.

By this time, he had walked quite a bit of distance. The skyscrapers in the distance seemed to be just down the block. It was there he would find freedom, down there were no-one would ever find him again.

It had been a rather warm day, but the temperature was dropping. Soon the gentle breeze wasn't so refreshing. Bobby pulled his jacket closer around himself. By now, he had made his way downtown. High above, dark grey clouds began to roll in. Soon, the moon was hidden from sight.

A low rumble emitted from Bobby's stomach. Sitting down on the corner, under a streetlight, he took off his backpack. Opening it, he pulled out his dinner and began to eat. It was cold pizza, his favorite. After finishing the slice, he washed it down with a can of soda.

Peering into his pack, he noted that he still had a sandwich and a apple left. It was meant to be tomorrow's lunch. His mother had made it for him before going to sleep. It would be the last time anyone made lunch for him, he thought.

Brushing the thought off angrily, he reprimanded himself, this is how I want it! So what if mom won't make me food anymore. I've got myself.

Bobby couldn't stop staring around himself in wonder. Everything seemed so new, so exciting. He had rarely been into the city before, and never alone. There were so many things to do, and he had all the time in the world. Things were going to be just great. Back home they would all be sorry they had treated as they had, while out here, he would be having fun all day. He wouldn't have to go to school or do homework or anything.

Whistling to himself, Bobby stood back up. He was still excited to be finally alone. He had plenty of energy, and all he wanted to do was explore the city.

Picking a direction, Bobby struck off at a leisurely pace. The building were all tall and pretty. The area was well lit by streetlights. There were no trees or front yards, however. There was too little room.

Admiring the sights, young Bobby wandered on. Eventually, he came to a public park. It seemed huge. As far as he could see, there were no houses or building in it. Happily, he set foot on one of the many paths and began to follow it.

Then in front of him, it roared up. Giant limbs stretched out for him, supported by a huge girth. It's feet seemed to crawl out towards him, slowly, methodically.

Grinning happily, Booby took one look at this monstrous tree and began to climb. The limbs were bare of leaves, for it was winter. Up and up he climbed, laughing all the way. Free, he thought, I'm free. Higher and higher he ascended, till the ground below was lost from view almost.

With a happy sigh, young Bobby sat in the mighty branches of the oak. He was utterly content. However, it was rather late, and, stifling a yawn, he decided he wanted to go to sleep then.

Climbing down, slowly, one foot after the other, so as to not slip, Bobby grew more and more tired. At this point, a parent would have told him to go to sleep. He would have resented bitterly, as a matter of principle almost. However, there were no parents, and so Bobby decided for himself that he wanted to sleep.

Finding a park bench down the path. Bobby laced down. It was very cold by now, and he had curled up in a ball to keep warm. Bobby was no longer so happy and excited. He was cold and tired, and was beginning to get hungry again. He was smart, though, for he realized he had to save the food for later.

Eventually, the young boy drifted off into a deep sleep. His dreams were pleasant ones, of candy and such. Late in the night, or rather, in the early morning, Bobby awoke. Struggling to get back to sleep, he noticed the birds calling to another. Happy and free, just like me, he thought. It was still all one big adventure to young Bobby Wanton. He had no idea what was about to happen, though.

A drop of water fell on Bobby's nose. Still asleep, he squirmed on the bench, trying to shake off the feeling. Then another, and another fell upon him. Having been so rudely awakened, he sat up. It took him a few seconds to realize it was raining, and another to realize it was still dark out. Sitting up, abruptly, Bobby glanced around. There proved to be no shelter from the merciless rain. None of the trees still bore leaves, and there was not a building in sight.

Standing up, by now almost soaking, Bobby race off down the path. There had to be shelter from the storm somewhere. He couldn't see well, it still being dark, and the rain further obscured his vision. Before he knew where he was, Bobby was off the path.

About twenty yards away, young Bobby noticed a blue tarp lying on the ground. Hoisting his backpack, he made for it. Hopefully, he could get under it to keep dry.

When he reached it, though, Bobby saw that it was already taken. A sleeping man lay underneath, apparently oblivious to the torrents of water falling around him. He was snoring deeply.

Disappointed, Bobby poked the figure. He now noticed that the man wore very shabby clothing. He had mismatched shoes, no socks, a very torn pair of jeans, He had on a stained, green sweatshirt and a black ski hat. Under the tarp was a torn wool blanket.

Suddenly, the figure roared up. He stretched his arms out to Bobby, trying to grab him. His eyes were crazed, his face unshaved. A dark beard hung from his chin.

Screaming in fear, Bobby turned to ran. The now wet finger clutched onto his backpack and tore it loose. Without looking back, Bobby ran on. He only wanted to get away. He soon exited the park and found himself in a run down section of the city. Still he ran, trying desperately to escape the monster behind him.

Behind him, the man was already going through the contents of Bobby's small backpack. He found the money and began to count it. There was about three dollars worth of change. Smiling revealing gaps in his teeth, the man realized he now had enough for a bottle of cheap wine. Putting everything back in the backpack, he pulled his blanket and tarp back over himself. Then he proceeded to go back to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thin streams of sunlight found their way to Bobby's hiding place. It was dawn, and he had escaped the raging creature from the park. The rain had stopped, but had already done taken it's toll. Bobby's clothes still had not dried from the night before.

Cold, defeated miserable, Bobby stood up. He had lost his backpack and now had no food to eat. He had no money, no nothing. His prospects were beginning to look dim indeed.

Taking a look around him nearly made Bobby drop in fright. He was in a very poorly lit alley. It was a miracle that what little light found him did. Rats were scurrying away off to his left. To his right stood a large dumpster, reeking of rotting garbage. The source from the garbage came from across the alley. A metal door announced the presence of some seedy bar. Down the alley, a ways, lay another body. It however, didn't look like it was getting up any time soon. A pool of some vile substance lay puddled around his head. If Bobby would have taken a closer look, he would have realized it was vomit. He did not, however, for just then, the figure stirred slightly.

Eyes wide, face pale, young Bobby edged out of the alley, his eyes never leaving the body. Outside, he took a deep breath of air. He had been holding it in the alley, so as not to smell the vile combinations of nauseous odors. Outside, however, was not much better. A hoarse cacophony greeted his exit. It had either been muted by the alleyway, or Bobby had not heard it because of the sensory overload from his eyes and nose.

Cars whizzed past Bobby as he stood on the sidewalk. People shouted and somewhere, some vicious dog barked. There wasn't a single hospitable building on the block. They all looked as if they should be condemned. Some of the graffiti artists disagreed, however. Why would they deface building that were just going to be torn down? There would be no fun involved.

Looking around, but not back, Bobby realized that he had no idea where he was. He had lost himself in his rapid flight the night before. Gazing up and down the street, he picked a direction. By this time, his adventure was more of a nightmare.

As Bobby walked down the street, cars slowed so the occupants could talk to him. The conversations usually only consisted of a few words, however, mainly degrading remarks about himself or his mother. Trying to escape the laughter that emanated, Bobby stopped looking at the cars that passed. It didn't help much, however.

Bobby had no real idea what time it was, but he guessed it was nine o"clock. It was really hard to tell, because clouds still obscured the sun most of the time. Bobby didn't have a watch.

By now, Bobby was regretting his escape form home. No longer did his parents seem so cruel. No longer did school seem so terrible. He wished he had never left. Beginning to sniffle, Bobby wished he could just go back home, but he didn't know where it was. He was helplessly lost, and some one might hurt him or steal him at any minute. He had never realized how good he had life. His parents gave him food shelter, and everything he could ever really need.

Stumbling along, all Bobby could think of was home. Chicken for dinner, custard for dessert. That was the norm. Now the norm would be who knew what. No one wold take care of him. He was on his own. There would be no more warm beds, no being tucked in by his mother. Never again would he play catch with his father or help him with the chores.

A gust of wind picked up, chilling Bobby to the core. It would be quite some time before his clothes dried.
On and on Bobby walked, in no real direction. He really didn't know where there was to go. He had no friends. Suddenly, he saw a police station. His thoughts brightened. Perhaps they could help him home.

Home, the word spun around in his head. He would go home. Only, what would his parents do. Would they ground him until eternity? He decided it didn't matter. He was sick and tired of being alone. No longer did it seem so much better. All he wanted was to be back home, with his family.

Just then, the clouds began to clear up, and the sun came out, fully. It shined down on him brightly, as if to say, you're making the righ
t choice.
Every step brought Bobby S. Wanton closer to the station. Soon, he would be inside the station. Soon, he would be home. The thought filled him with a joy he had never felt before. Never before had home held such a mystical and happy meaning. He felt sad, though, as well, for he thought of the man in the park. He doesn't have anything or anyone, Bobby realized. It made him sad that he could have everything while that man had nothing. Maybe someday, he could change that.