Once upon a time a little boy ran away from home. This was his first time trying such a great adventure, but he didn't really have time to pack either. As such he had only grabbed his beloved Floppsy, a partially stuffed rabbit with a advanced case of mange. Such is the consequence of six years of cradle to school love.
The two had decided to run because the baby sitter was very very mad. She was screaming, slamming doors, and otherwise making a large fuss. The boy and Floppsy were reading a book when the ruckus began, so they knew they were innocent, yet doomed to be blamed. The Babysitter saw everything as his fault and was not one to spare the rod. Floppsy assured the boy they were not cowardly running AWAY as much as running toward justice. If they could find a sheriff or fireman or the ice cream guy, those adults would provide justice to the Babysitter. But had the boy stayed, he would be whipped. He had to run.
The boy knew Floppsy was a stuffed toy and could not really speak, but the boy also knew that when he talked to himself, the other voice in his head was smart and funny. That was Floppsy. Always saying the right thing at the right time, unlike the boy who often, stuttered and mumbled when talking to other kids or adults. But never to Floppsy. They had great time together telling jokes, sharing stories of pirates and singing silly songs. And how it was Floppsy's courage that kept him running away from the Babysitter. Their first big adventure.
The plan was simple. Stick to the backyards where cars could not go. Run north by keeping the sun at his back. The boy had seen maps and driven with his dad to work. He knew it took Dad am hour to get to work and he had to cross a river. Floppsy guessed that if they walked for two hours they would reach Dad. And there were lots of bridges so the river would be easy. Even if they did not find a bridge, swimming across a river was easy, according to the TV shows. Not a great plan, but it would work. The boy and Floppsy knew it.
Adventures take planning. The boy's feet hurt, he was lost and hungry. He pretended to feed Flopsy grass and somehow knowing his best friend was fed made his own hunger less. Next time he runs away ... No there would be no turning back.
They soon ran out of neighborhood. The familiar landscape of mowed lawns and fences ended in forest. The trees were tall and green and they danced with the wind. The undergrowth was thick and prickly, but the boy was small and was soon rewarded by finding a few berries that were deep in the hedgerow. They were tart, but good. Even Flopsy agreed they were good. So they rested deep in the thicket enjoying berries. They boy was becoming sleepy, but Flopsy knew they had to keep going. Just a few minutes more and they would be with adults who would punish the babysitter. Resigned, the boy stuffed his pockets with berries for later and made his way to the forest.
The woods were sometimes scary, so many tall things for such a small boy. But there were wonders too like the deer and the groundhog. The squirrels were a constant source of amusement as they flipped between trees playing an endless game of tag. When they found the stream, Flopsy had to show the boy how to suck up the water, and when the boy sucked up a small rock, Flopsy laughed so hard he lost a bit of stuffing. But they boy was alright, if not annoyed that his berries in his pockets had become mush.
They spent several hours wandering in the forest, too much time said Flopsy. They were most definitely lost, although neither was going to admit it to the other, so they fell into following the stream figuring it must go to the river. Then cross the river to be in the city where the entire police force could lock away the babysitter. They had their plan.
The plan did not involve night time. As the sunset, all the long shadows scared the boy. What they needed was a hotel. This brought another chuckle from Flopsy who joked about a hotel for deer and squirrels and their out of town visitors. Little squirrel luggage piled high on the family dog. For Flopsy the idea brought him endless jokes and amusement. The boy ignored his friend and kept walking.
Just as the sun had set and the yellows and reds of twilight filtered through the forest, the boy noticed a small something strapped to the side of a large tree. Feeling like he had found a hotel he quickened his pace toward the tree with what looked like a tent upon closer inspection. But the tent was very high; much to high out of reach and someone had cut off all the lowest of the branches.
The boy sat down with an audible THUMP that hurt his bottom and scattered leaves like a fall wind. The boy felt stupid. Some adventure this was. He had no idea where he was or where he was going or even where he had been. He was lost, it was growing dark, he had sticky pockets; it was time to give up and just cry. Flopsy just sat and watched the boy cry his futile tears. Then in a flash, an unreconcilable act of pure frustration, the boy did the unthinkable. But he was just a boy lost in scary forest and mad at himself. In that instant, Flopsy's became the focus of the boy's dark emotions and, with the last of his tears still on his face, the boy took his very best friend and threw Flopsy high into the trees.
Like most good people, the boy regretting the act as soon as it was done. He watched with terror as Flopsy bounced off one branch, then for an agonizing moment seem to get stuck between crossed tree limbs. The boy's heart lept in joy when Flopsy was falling and instantly froze cold when Flopsy seemed to get stuck in branches. Flopsy's flight took no more than three seconds, but the boy aged a year. He understood consequences, the cruel randomness of
Fate, and how they combine to give Loss.
Flopsy was surprised by the fury in the boy's throw, but he understood how scared his friend was. Besides he had a plan. With a few lucky bounces he would be inside the tent.
The boy roller coaster heart finished on a low note. Flopsy had managed to land inside the tent. He was safe, but equally out of reach. That was when he heard the yips of dogs. The boy changed emotions rapidly. Fear being the one he came back to most. Panic ran a close second. Fortunately the boy was not in a blind panic otherwise he would run from the tent tree and missed the ladder that had appeared. Climbing quickly the boy found himself in a small tent with Flopsy sitting front paws crossed. If it were possible for a stuffed toy to look disappointed, Flopsy had that face. But as his best friend the boy knew something was underneath that scowl: relief. The boy picked up Flopsy and hugged his friend and apologized. And then rain started.
Both the boy and Flopsy agreed that who ever put the tent in the tree was an expert runawayer. The tent was dry, it had a flashlight that made red, yellow, and white light, there was a pillow, and a bottle for water. There was even a blanket of every color of green. There was a rope and pulley in addition to the ladder. It was be so easy to live here forever. But this was someone else's runaway spot Flopsy reminded the boy. And as every boy (and Rabbit) knew, you are not allowed to steal someone's hiding spot. They collected some rain water, read their book using the different flashlight colors and the boy drifted asleep under the watchful and unblinking plastic eyes of Flopsy.
The next morning started like every other morning. The boy felt the warmth of his blanket and Flopsy near by. He gradually remembered that he was a runaway and loudly was reminded that he was hungry. The noises from his stomach woke him and Flopsy. It was time to go ... somewhere. Home? Berries? The River? While the boy talked to Flopsy, he stopped to notice his friend was leaning on can peaches. The kind at school, the kind of can be knew how to open. He started to take the peaches, but stopped himself. They were his friends and you don't take stuff from friends. Bullies took stuff that was not theirs. A boy who stutters knew all about bullies except how to make them stop. The boy asked Flopsy for the peaches and Flopsy agreed they could share. Friends share. The next hour was spent playing space explorers strapped to the side of their Super Rocket. They shook the tent violently during launch, pretended to be weightless while in space, and fended off the space pirates with Floppsy making the best laser noises.
Perhaps because they were making too much noise, they did not hear the dog barking at their tree until there was a Woman's voice calling to them. The boy and Floppsy peeked out from under the flap to see a very damp police woman and her equally damp, yet fierce looking dog. The boy started telling the woman all about the Babysitter, and seemed to care enough, but like many adults she wasn't listening. She kept asking him to come down. The boy and Floppsy relented and dropped the ladder, yet before he stepped out onto the ladder he asked the policewoman for money to repay for the peaches. This made her smile and she handed him a few coins when the boy passed down Floppsy. The boy quickly scurried into the tent and put the money where the peaches had been.
The police woman's voice suddenly changed. It wasn't yelling like the Babysitter, but the tone made him hurry out of the tent as if he was in the wrong nonetheless. The boy was forced to stop and wail: the dog had Floppsy and was shaking and shredding the toy. The woman was giving commands and the dog finally dropped Floppsy for a bit of kibble. The boy was less easily dealt with. The boy tried to pick up the pieces of his friend, but they were just pieces of cloth covered in mud, dog spit, and the tears from the boy. The boy did not remember when he stopped crying. He cried at the officer, he cried at his dad and mom, he cried himself asleep, and he was still crying at night when his mom came and gave him a hug mumbling about losing him. The boy cried.
The next day the boy's head hurt from all the crying. He reached for Floppsy to comfort him and started to cry when he remembered that Floppsy was gone. His best friend was no more. The boy knew Floppsy was a toy, but so much of his love had gone into that toy, Floppsy had become as real as anything to the boy. He stopped crying when he realized that all that love was wasted, love had died. He got up and dressed in his best clothes, he would mourn Floppsy today. He headed down the hall to the kitchen only to be caught in his dad's embrace and led instead to the front room where the police woman sat with a stuffed rabbit toy in her lap. The boy heard his mom and dad call the toy Floppsy and the woman apologized. When the boy took too long to take the gift, his dad took it from the officer and gave it to the boy. With a forced "thank you" the boy was allowed to leave. He went to his room and looked around at his other toys and then down at the lifeless toy in his hand. He understood at that moment that all toys were lifeless. They were all just imitations. They were lies from adults to children. He had just been given kibble to keep him quiet. What a fine dog the boy had become. Without a word he gathered all his toys and put them outside his room. At his desk he made three signs with his crayons. In black he wrote "TRASH" and put this sign on the toys. In red he wrote "do not enter" and taped it to his door. Using all the other colors he wrote "Floppsy" and put this paper under his mattress.
He did not remember falling asleep, but when the boy left his room to find some food, his toy trash pile was gone. At the refrigerator, the boy's dad asked him to explain what happened yesterday. Before speaking the boy sat at his chair to sip at his juice. Then the boy explained about the Babysitter and the failed adventure that ended with Floppsy's death. For the entire story the boy never stuttered, mumbled or cried. He apologized for leaving without a note, so they did not need to fear he was dead. He explained that he knew about love as the cause of all death, and apologized again, this time for loving them both. By the end of this revelation his mom came from the next room and hugged him. She assured him that he was wrong. They loved him and no harm would come to him because they loved him. "But you will die someday too right? And I love you," asked the boy to his silenced parents.
Summer was over. The boy had learned how to ride a bike and spent much too much time at the library. He liked the library because nothing there was his and he could avoid people just by keeping the book open. No one interrupted a child reading, kids on computers or phones seemed to get harassed much more than a reading kid. The boy was careful to never get to involved with the books he read. He read them, but did not love books. They were not his to love. The books would be safe from harm.
The onset of school would mean a new library, but also bullies and nosey teachers. To his surprise he found the library only had magazines and computers and the teachers were too focussed on showing them how to fill in bubbles quickly to notice his change. Of course bullies were a constant, but the boy was not the same meek kid. When the bullies tried to "pants" him, the boy turned to the bullies and removed his own pants for them. He did not care what people thought of him, he did not want the love of anyone. This stunt earned him the first of many trips to the principal. The boy spoke confidently to the principal who the bullies were and why he removed his own pants. Then the boy named the teachers who let the bullies have their fun at the expense of the weaker kids, and this earned him a trip home. It was the same when he was tripped in the hall or his lunch stolen. The boy spoke to the principal as an adult might, named names of students and teachers, and then he was sent home. Every trip to the principal began and ended the same. But the trips were less frequent as autumn wore on. The bullies were beaten, because the boy who had nothing to lose was no longer a fun target. He was no fun at all. He did his bubbles, he spoke only when spoken too, and rode his bike alone and very fast. No one to catch him: no one to love.
The boy was almost happy Christmas morning. No one had put any gifts under the trees, just as he asked. No stockings by the fireplace, no mistletoe in the house, and no silly train going no where in circles. A barren wasteland under the tree with no lies of love. The boy felt relief and some regret. Had he ruined Christmas for his mom and dad? The boy loved his mom and dad very much and he worried that his love for them would kill them. He knew he loved him because he got the Christmas he wanted. Would their love kill him?
Mom and dad joined him by the intentionally under lit tree in silence for just a moment before mom spoke, "only one gift this year m' boys. I am pregnant." Dad hugged mom in that way dads do. Then dad spoke, "how? I mean I know how. When? I mean not when but why? No I meant why now?...." And mom got the giggles and could not stop. The boy smiled for a moment at the love and joy his parents were sharing, and then he cried. That much love would kill someone. His mom stopped laughing and asked why the boy cried? Was he happy sad? The boy asked the only question a good son could ask: "will the baby love me?" Dad spoke next "you will be a great big brother!" with mom adding "you'll be adored." Those three words would launch the boy into his second and last childhood adventure.
That night the boy pulled out the paper with Floppsy's name on it. Feeling the old love, he sniffed back a tear and turned the paper over. With a pen, he began a list: Floppsy, juice boxes, peaches, tent, dog biscuits. Every night he would add items to the list and during the day he planned where to go. His parents were happy he was not underfoot as they painted dad's room the green of fresh cut grass. He also stayed out of trouble at school as every assignment became about some part of his plan. A poster on dangerous snakes for science, island chains for social studies, and always maps. He even signed up for shop class where the bullies lived so he could learn to fix his bike. The bullies ignored him and the boy ignored them. Or so he thought.
One day during gym class, several of the jocks were teasing one of them about being in love with a classmate. They said "love" so many times, the boy began to shake. He had drawn attention to himself and the jocks began to call him names. Suddenly the bullies came out from where they were hiding and stood beside the boy. "He's with us," one big bully said and suddenly it was quiet in class. The gym teacher even noticed and everyone was told run laps. The boy noticed the bullies would drift off the track while pretending to run and go their own way. The next day in shop class the boy said "thank you" to the big bully who told him to shut up and punched the boy on the arm. The punch did not hurt like when he was being bullied, but the boy was stronger from his bike riding too. The boy went back to his bike gear project and worked in silence. He did not want friends, friendship was dangerously close to love. And he no longer wanted any one else to die. Not even the bullies.
The list got longer as his mom began to show more of her baby bump.
When it got warm the boy went back to riding his bike. The new gear set worked great (he earned a prize from the school for the gears he had help installing) and he could go even faster. He practiced his map skills by trying new ways to get home. Soon he had the town memorized, so he needed to ride further from home to keep his map reading skills sharp. On one of those trips, he felt really good about how the bike was handling and how fast he was able to go. He was thirsty, so he stopped at a gas station and bought a cherry Coke. When he went back outside, his bike was no where to be seen. He looked around for just a few minutes, but he knew he was at fault. He had begun to love the bike so it died. He understood: Simple as that. He loved riding his bike and he had made it his bike. Such was life. He jogged home and answered the series of disappointed questions from his dad. The litany ended with "you need to learn responsibility son." To which the boy answered "some day you'll be proud of my responsibility." But no bike changed his plans.
The next evening after dinner the boy went to his room to rethink how he was getting out of town without a bike. Every option was either too slow or too expensive. He was becoming flustered, but nothing unsurmountable. He'd think on it more in the morning. He had just settled into bed, when mom came into his room: "you don't need to leave you know. I've seen your list and you don't need to leave. Your sister will love you and you both will be fine. Your dad and I will keep you both safe and loved. But I love you more for thinking about your sister." She did not wait for a response, she simply kissed the forehead of her son and left his spotlessly empty room with its ratty "do not enter" sign on the door.
The boy did not sleep that night. Mom knew his plans, he had no bike, his sister would love him, love meant death. He played these facts over again and again until it occurred to him that he needed to get out quickly. He snuck out of his bed and quietly gathered everything on his list. He needed a bike, so he would borrow one from one of the bullies. He went to one house and found a nice bike locked to the front porch. On his third attempt, he had guessed the combination (1,2,3,4 - no one said bullies were bright) and rode off with the bike. Since mom knew his plan, he had to do something different. He rode south until he could pedal no further. There he found a shallow creek and a bridge to hide under until tomorrow night.
He hid himself deep under the bridge and made sure the bike was hidden. He took his plastic covered pillow and old blanket. Climbing into the make-shift bed, he fell asleep very quickly.
Floppsy said hello to the boy as he slept. He wanted to hear about school and if he had any new friends. The boy told every story he could think of with tears of joy at seeing his old friend again. Floppsy asked if this was another adventure, and the boy proudly said it was. Then Floppsy asked how the last adventure had ended. The boy tried to lie, but the words came mumbled and mixed. Taking a deep breadth, the boy explained Floppsy's death truthfully without missing a detail and without crying. Then it was Floppsy who said "Death is death and it is okay to be wary of death; feared like a shadow because it is unknown. However to fear love is selfish. The love we shared is one the lights that chased the shadows away when we were adventuring. The more you love the more you live, so ignore death and focus on the light of living."
The boy woke up to the noise of traffic overhead. Floppsy's words were still playing in his mind. Did he fear death or love?
There were a lot of cars on this road, but he was awake. He got out his canned peaches and ate a meal. With the daylight he could see under the bridge much better. The stream was swift, but not very deep. The pools and eddies held small fish and he thought he saw a turtle. Using his peaches can, he took several drinks of the water and dug out his map. He needed a plan now that he was out on his own. He never planned to go south, so he needed to find a campground or someplace his tent would look normal. He found a small lake with the campground map symbol, but it looked several days of riding away, so he found his resolve and started his trek.
As he pedaled and hugged the side of the road he could feel his stomach gurgle. He could see a gas station ahead which had a food store attached. Locking his stolen bike he sprinted to the restroom and vomited. He took longer in the restroom than he would have liked, but his body had different ideas. When he was done, he cleaned himself as much as he could and stocked up on TP and paper towels. As he left the restroom, the clerk was giving him the eye, which the boy knew would be trouble. He unlocked his bike and calmly inserted a coin into the air machine and filled both tires. He made a lot of noise while doing his work so the clerk would know he had bought something. He knew clerks like purchases, but when he was done, he still felt horrible and he vomited again beside the dumpster. He wiped off his face and drank some more stream water to clean his mouth. He wasn't hungry even though it was noon, the thought of food turned his stomach.
The next few miles on his bike lead him to his first turn; a left turn. He carefully guided his bike to the side road and waited for the first set of lanes to be free of cars and he ran his bike across the road. A few minutes later he could safely cross the last two lanes. No one seemed to pay him any thoughts. A boy on a bike was not unusual. The ride down the side road was bumpy and it made him vomit again. Suddenly he had a burst of diarrhea and he was terrified someone would see him. He cleaned up, thankful he missed his clothing. He was not making good time, but he pedaled onward until it got dark. He found a gazebo in someone's backyard and slept away from the house. The bright lights cast scary shadows that changed when the wind blew. When he was too afraid, he would shine his flashlight. A light could break up shadows. He was not feeling like eating, so he made his bed and lay atop the blankets. He was hot and tired, but mostly tired.
The second time Floppsy came to his dream, he was very cross. "You are sick. You need to get help." The boy asked Floppsy if death was better than life. Floppsy told him with out any comforting words "Life and Death were different, but connected. Neither good nor bad. But choose life when you can."
The boy woke up confused but hearing a dog barking. He managed to pull himself up onto the gazebo floor before collapsing. He vaguely remembered a dark skinned man picking him up before he fell asleep again.
The third time Floppsy came to his dreams he was his old playful self. They played imagination and guessing games and told all the jokes they new. After the boy won the spit-bubble contest, Floppsy turned serious. "This is life, this is love. If you really think love leads to death, then it is time for our love to let you die. Just relax and think of death and you will die, but if you had fun playing, then you want life. What do you choose: love and life or do you want the eternal dreams of death?"
It took effort to say, none of his muscles wanted to move, but the boy forced out the two words Floppsy needed to hear: love and life.
The boy woke up in a bed with machines around him and tubes coming in and out of his arm. His dad was asleep in a chair near his bed holding his son's hand. The boy squeezed his dad's hand and looked around his new room. He had seen enough TV to know this was probably a hospital. He was just getting ready to play with the buttons on the bed when a doctor came in.
"Are you feeling better?" the boy shook his head as the doctor did doctor things. By now Dad was awake. The boy did not understand what the adults were saying but their tone was happy. Dad shook the doctors hand until it nearly came off her arm. "you should keep sleeping. You are an inspiring kid. All during your treatment you kept saying "live life" Those words kept my staff motivated for certain. See you tomorrow. The doctor left just as mom came waddling into his room.
The boy spoke first and only. "Love means life." His parents smiled and let him sleep.
Floppsy visited the boy, now an old man, one last time. The played as they did when they were young. They both knew so many more jokes, and they got most of them this time. They played the guessing game. They had fun. Then the man looked to Floppsy and said "I have lived, I have lost, I have always loved. Love me enough to let me die", and Floppsy shook his head in agreement, "it is why I came today. To help you die." Floppsy lay beside the man head and they whispered all the secrets and regrets they had. The old man reached out with the arms of the boy and held his best friend until they died.
