Mister oh mister won't you come and play? Please oh please - it’s such a pleasant day. I cast off my name and you cast off yours. Then we call for each other and we live here no more. A child gently dances down an elegant hallway, quietly singing and humming to themselves. They hold their stuffed animal in front of them, dangling it in the air, both of them dancing to the nursery rhyme. The fox’s fur is faded, it’s head flopping as they dance, as the stuffing in his neck and middle are flat from being hugged and held. As tense as a deer the child freezes, jerking their head to stare at the back of the only door in the hallway. The clicking sound of a key turning seems to echo through the hall. The old silver handle starts to open but pauses, the voices inside barely slipping through the pause. As frantic as a rabbit, the child runs to the nearest portrait, one of a small girl in a light blue and white ruffled dress. In a silent, rushed but practiced motion, the child shoves their toy fox into their mouth and reaches up on their tiptoes to pull the portrait girl’s long, light blue hair ribbon. A small click to be heard as something from behind the picture swooshes open. The child steps on the rim of a fern plant’s pot to jump and grab the top of the picture frame, swinging themselves into the canvas and disappearing into the wall. The child quickly moves to slide the small hidden door close, halting to leave a small gap of light shining into the dark space inside the walls. The child peeps out to see a tall, heavy set, wide built man silently dart in and out of the forbidden room - doing so much faster than seemed possible for a man of his stature. The man stepped close to the door and shoved an incredibly large worn wooden key into the incredibly small silver key hole with an almost violent twist. The house held its breath. The man released his. With clam, gentle movements the man purposely removed the key. Glancing up and down the hall for reassurance that he was alone, the man raised the large key to his face. The man’s jaw twitched as he leaned his head back. He opened his mouth, his lips parting beyond, all the way to his ears. Saliva, dripping off of his tentacle-like tongues and knife-sharp jagged teeth. The man lifted the key above his head. His tongues slipped over the key like snakes. As soon as the man let go of the key it jerked into his mouth, his head whipping closed back to looking normal. The man rolled out his shoulders before fixing his coat and leaving the hall with a brisk pace.
So, I was a Junoir helper for Literary Seniors Morgan Love‘s and Kaite Spiers‘s Senior Showcase this past Monday. A good bit of their wonderful writing was Surrealism. My little sisters have also been watching shows that tend to put things past the point of normal. I also watched the movie, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, recently I think it has affected my writing. What I have written above is an experiment. So hope ya’ll like it.
I like this Madison it is very interesting.