Basement
Dreams
We're
orphans, my sister and I. Our age
doesn't matter, we are both young, but I know for certain that Josielle is
older than me. She's wiser, and
stronger. We've been wandering the
streets as long as we can remember, living off of the resources we find around
us. Clothes off a line, shoes from a
garbage can, walking into barns and sharing the food and bed with the animals.
The
surplus of locked doors drove us farther into the country. There, on a cow farm, we made a miraculous
discovery - a hidden unlocked basement door in the back of a farmer's house. It is a small basement, but white and
clean. There is a small, sagging bed in
one corner, a few chairs and an antique desk.
There is also a white door on one wall, which looks like it leads to a
bedroom, with an old street-sign hung on it crookedly: "Hill Bay
Rd." Another dark wooden door to
the right must lead to the house. But
one wall completely fascinates us, my sister and I, as it is covered with small
cages, filled with animals. Animals
like birds- budgies and canaries, hamsters and mice and baby rabbits. They're all piled there, on shelves, curious
and adorable and tiny and alive.
Somehow this strikes me with a feeling of recognition, like I'd seen
them before. Maybe we had animals, my
sister and I, when we once had a family and a home. The bed looks so comfortable we both tumble on it and have the
best sleep we've had in ages.
We
are awoken by footsteps and the first thing we see is an old man striding in,
the farmer. We don't even know which
door he came in from but we are in his house and we have no time to react. We are scared witless but he sees our ragged
clothes and our trembling forms and he smiles kindly. He tells us it's alright, and he won't hurt us. He even offers us leftover food and says we
can stay if we take care of the small animals.
He says he is arthritic and has rhumatism or astigmatism or whatever it
is, and cannot keep climbing the basement steps each day. It's a dream come true and we can't
speak. I'm smiling as wide as I can to
show my agreement. Just then, there is
a sound of thumping and low groaning from the room behind the white door,
breaking our reverie. The farmer
explains before we can ask,
"That's just a boy, he snuck in here as
you did, through a window in that room.
I don't bother him, he stays in there, he leaves and returns as he
chooses. I only know him as
Floyd."
Josielle
and I are scared of Floyd for a while, but the door never opens, and we assume
we are safe. Taking care of the animals
is wonderful and we name them all, and the farmer leaves us leftovers and fruit
to eat.
We
never leave the small basement, we love it so much here. We had been here for a few weeks, and
tonight Josielle and I stayed up late, talking about the animals and the night
and the fog rolling outside.
Just
then, the white door opens. Floyd steps
out.
We
are paralysed with fear, my sister and I, realizing the door had been unlocked
all this time. We cling to each other
and smother each others' voices, and we look upon Floyd for the first time,
whom we heard but never saw before.
He's very tall. And he looks
very strong. He looks like he had lots
of muscles once, but he shrunk somehow.
He has a crew cut, he's wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans. He's even rather handsome- or he would be,
if it weren't for his cold, confused, unseeing stare from dull grey eyes, his
slack face and slow, stumbling gait. He
is also wearing a chain around his neck, with a rectangular silver plate. Another flash of memory, but I have no time
to think of it now.
He
shuffles towards the cages of animals (my heart leaps into my throat) all the
while whispering "It's okay... it's okay...". He stops.
He opens a cage and lifts out a grey rabbit we had named Baby. It fits in his large hand, and he cups it,
cooing softly, "Okay... it's okay..."
Then
he opens his mouth, and slowly begins to stuff the rabbit in, and I don't see
anymore becaue I shut my eyes as tight as I can, my heart is racing with
horror. I cling to my sister as she
does to me and I can hear the rabbit screaming and screaming- no, I really
can't, my hands are covering my ears- and my mouth is biting into my sister's
shoulder, so it's my insides that are screaming in fear and shock, clamoring to
get out, but I can't scream... I can't scream...
I
finally loosten my grasp and my hands leave my ears, and I hear Floyd shuffling
away, muttering "It's okay..."
His door closes. My eyes ease
open. My face and arms hurt and the
rabbit cage is empty. Josielle's eyes
are full of tears. "We're leaving,
right now." she croaks, her voice weak and barely a whisper. We rise out of bed, and head for the
basement door. We try it. It is stuck.
We
pull desperately, as hard as we dare.
I'm sobbing with fear and trying not to cry out. We jostle the door with all our strength,
and it doesn't open, but a bird cage falls to the floor. There is a crash, and the bird squawks
angrily. It's the loudest sound in the
world. There is a huge yell of fury
from Floyd's room. We hear his giant
footsteps pounding for the door! I grab
three cages from the shelves, hang the handles from my arms- I don't know
why! I don't know why I have to save
these animals, I just have to!
The
white door bursts open and Floyd is roaring.
I can hear what he's saying, it's, "COME BACK!!! COME
BACK!!!" I find my voice, and
scream and scream and scream. I push
through the dark door leading to the house, run up the stairs. I've never been in the farmer's upstairs
house before but there has to be a front door.
I find it, wrench it open, I'm outside, and I'm still screaming. I charge down the street, cages rattling on
my arms, tears flooding my eyes, heart pounding, sides aching. I feel like I will split in half. I don't know where my sister is- she was
probably caught back there, I left her behind, I imagine she is eaten, like the
rabbit.
My
voice dies away, my throat is raw and sore, my lungs wasted. It is oddly silent and completely still, the
dark and foggy night. I keep running,
chest bursting, and finally, glimpse a lone girl on the road. She's a teenager, returning from a
party. She can't hear me scream
desperately "Help me, help me," because my voice is gone.
I stumble to her, sobbing. She has to help me. When I draw nearer, she seems much shorter
than she should. And she only glances
at me, stares right through me, with only a look of mild revulsion. She mutters cruelly, "Go away." And she walks on.
I
suddenly feel something on my neck. My
hand reaches up, a cage cutting into my arm.
I feel a chain, a metal tag. I
look down at myself. Grey shirt, jeans,
tall tall form.
I
am Floyd.
The
people in the neighborhood know Floyd.
They ignore his insanity- that's why the girl ignored him. He was like this ever since he came home
from the war. Lost his friends, and his
mind. Weeks in the trenches with the
smell of death like the blood of rabbits.
He ran away, leaving them behind, and he survived, only him. Escaped from death only to live a life of
pointlessness and emptiness.
His
name used to be Nathaniel. But he is
cruelly called Floyd by everyone now, even by his father. He lives in the basement because he can't
help with the farming.
Hill
Bay doesn't exist anymore. It's gone,
wiped from existence, ever since it was covered with bodies and death from
exploding shells and shrapnel. It's
only a street sign now, hanging on the door to Floyd's memories.
No
one knows what goes on in Floyd's head.
The
little girls finally expelled from his mind, Floyd settles back into his
room. He lies down. "It's okay," he mutters to the
darkness. "It's okay."