SOLITARY (standard:drama, 1667 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jan 15 2003	Views/Reads: 4146/2429	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young boy gets his first look at the outside world after being imprisoned for twelve years.

Little Jamie huddled up in the corner and held his battered Teddy Bear
close to his chest. The stench of urine and human waste that was coming 
from his potty did not bother him. After twelve years in isolation, he 
was used to it. 

The dark, damp loft had been his prison ever since he could remember.
His mother, though a religious woman and an ex-Sunday school teacher, 
had regretted ever given birth to the bastard in the loft, as she liked 
to call him. The shame of being raped almost thirteen years ago was her 
secret, which she would take with her to the grave. 

She had concealed her pregnancy from the few friends that she had, and
had resigned her scholarly post nearer the time of the birth. From the 
day that Jamie was born, he was treated with derision; an unwanted brat 
delivered from the loins of Satan. 

Jamie made his way to the crack in the tiles, his only communication
with the outside world. Because of the lack of height in his prison, 
the boy walked with a stoop, not unlike an old man. He brushed away the 
cobwebs and squinted when the offending light hurt his eyes. The 
darkness was his solace, his sense of sight obsolete in his black 
world. 

He focused on the green grass that was swaying with the cool sea breeze;
the sea; that he had never set eyes on. Jamie longed to touch the grass 
and feel the enigmatic wind against his face, wondering how it would 
feel. The squawking from above made him smile, and he imagined the 
seagulls that he had only seen in a book. The books being one of the 
rare luxuries that he was allowed. 

He cocked his head to the side to hear the children playing, their
joyful screams reaching his dungeon. Jamie turned his back on the 
children and sat cuddling his Teddy, the tears streaming down his eyes. 
Human contact was something he had not experienced, apart from his 
brief sessions with his mother. 

He switched on his torch and picked up his bible. The artificial light
was not needed, for he knew every word of the good book off by heart, 
owing to his mother's urgings. 

He heard the footsteps climbing the staircase and put his hands
together, praying that his mother was in a forgiving mood. He scrambled 
over to his potty and scooped up the waste that had missed its target, 
and placed it in its rightful place. 

The trap door opened and he sat trembling, as the shaft of light invaded
his home. He heard the usual disapproving mumbling coming from the 
mouth of his mother and feared the worst. Her head appeared through the 
opening and she shone her torch towards him. 

“I hope you ate your lunch, boy.” 

“Yes, Mama.” 

She continued her ascent, holding a bowl with one hand and the ladder
with the other. Jamie, aware of the routine, crawled on all fours 
towards his mother and accepted the bowl of porridge. Porridge for 
breakfast, soup for lunch and porridge again for supper. There was 
never any deviation in her ritual, except for Christmas, when he was 
allowed biscuits. 

His mother crawled towards him on her knees and faced the thin boy.
“Tut, tut, tut. Potty before supper. How many times do I have to tell 
you?” 

The splinters from the floorboards bit into his bare knees as he crawled
towards the potty. Carefully, he picked up the container and trembled, 
when the beam of light from outside the attic illuminated him. 

“What is that, Jamie? Tell me you haven't spilt your filth on the
floor?” 

“But, Mama, the potty was almost full.” 

She ignored her son and grabbed his long, dirty hair forcefully,


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