{This is a response to a Google Maps prompt on What Pegman Saw. Responses are limited to 150 words. Thanks for the prompt!}
Johnny scowled. He kicked up a cloud of dust before the candy-cane-striped minarets. This mosque was just like his old church. A boring, pious façade, meant to distract you from Life’s real treasures.
Getting a running start, Johnny tumbled straight through the nearly empty sanctuary, and finally screeched to a halt at the residence’s burbling atrium pool. The four tiled walls of the courtyard surrounded him in blue and white, with bits of orange-red.
This paved garden, flanked by strange ivy, was Johnny’s favorite place.
Servants scuttled about. Each wore, at once, more clothing than Johnny had in his entire wardrobe. His short-pants and -sleeves drew stares, as if, even on a child, they were obscene.
Pivoting, his buckled shoes sent clattering echoes back along the long hall. The servants hissed at Johnny angrily, but, in the end, did nothing. What could they do? This was his home, after all.
Well told!
Thank you J Hardy!
Thank you!
From He kicked up a cloud of dust before the candy-cane-striped minarets to Pivoting, his buckled shoes sent clattering echoes back along the long hall this boy sounds like a bull of a child who will have fun with life, not matter what it hands him.
A bull of a child–love it!
I love the straight-lacedness of the servants vs Johnny’s devil-may-care attitude.
Contrast and conflict go hand in hand, don’t they?:)
Your story is well and fluently written. You’ve given it a very physical presence by describing very vigorous actions and distinctive noises in addition to your description of the visual aspects of the minarets and the courtyard.
Thank you Penny. Your comments are always so well thought out.
Great story, I love the boy’s perspective here. Reading between the lines, I’m guessing that Johnny has been moved here, far away from home, against his wishes, and is having a hard time getting along. It sounds like he’s found one favorite place, but the whole piece felt very lonely to me, like he’s acting out but nobody except these scowling servants even cares.
Thank you Joy, your intuition has served you well. I was thinking along just those lines. I kept imagining children such as the girls in Frances Hodgeson Burnett’s The Secret Garden or The Little Princess, usually motherless or orphaned, studiously neglected by some distant relative, so as to be left to roam and amuse themselves as they pleased, often at their own peril. A kind of freedom that kids don’t often get nowadays.
I can feel Johnny’s boredom and imagination, Andrea. Such an observant eye, leading to beautifully natural descriptions. How he must irk those overworked servants!
P.S. Like your about.
Kelvin, as you may have observed in real life, places of worship are not always high on a kid’s list of fun activities. And they are not always shy about letting their preferences be known.:) The servants are definitely to be admired for their restraint! For the garden walls, I had in mind a lovely poster of tile work from a mosque, shown in the Chicago Exhibit of King Suleiman(sp?) the Magnificent, years back. Thanks, so glad you poked around my site!
I imagine a rift like that will only continue to grow. I could see and hear it all.
I’m guessing you meant the rift between the servants (ie the locals) and this young outsider. It does sound like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.:) I’m beginning to get the impression that mine was a rather noisy story!
Dear Andrea,
Perhaps the servants also thought Johnny was a brat. I could hear his shoes clatter on the tile floor. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you, Rochelle.Yes, I imagine they did!