The disappeared

This one’s from a competition called The Disappeared from the British Red Cross. The idea was about people who had gone missing and was for National Missing Person’s day or something similar (30th August). I think my entry was ok. The problem I have is I always write from the wrong point of view. There was no word limit, only that the entry must fit onto one side of A4, which this following entry does. This was my entry for the Disappeared.

Mummy!

Hello Mummy! Can you hear me, please? It’s me! Daniel!

I miss you Mummy. Can I come back home soon please? Mr Sir won’t answer when I asked. He says it’s down to you. I don’t know what that means.

I miss home. I’ve got a bed and as many blankets as I want, but it’s not my

bed.

Can I tell you something secret, Mummy? I don’t think Mr Sir and his friends are English. They speak in a made up language, and like to talk about wee a lot which is gross, don’t you think so Mummy? They only speak in their wee- wee language to each other, to me they speak in English but their voices sound funny and I have to try not to laugh.

Mr Sir and his friends are nice. They’re weird and funny looking but they’re nice. They let me have ice cream, and sweets whenever I want. Sometimes it makes me sleepy though, but Mr Sir says that’s because I get too excited.

Sometimes we go down to the sea to see the boats. The house is really close to the sea, I

can see it from my bedroom window! So we go down there a lot. It looks so

pretty, Mummy. When you come to take me home we have to go to see it, together.

Mummy?

Don’t go Mummy! Mummy! Mummy…

 

It wasn’t the first time I’d had the dream. It wasn’t the first time I’d woken up from it, shaking. It defiantly wasn’t the first time I’d sat up all night in tears, scared to fall back asleep, to hear my little boy’s voice again. Because he was my little boy really … really.

Really…

They, the others, thought it was stupid. He was just another kid to them. They just wanted the money. It was never about the money to me. Daniel was like my own son. I’d had him for three years, near the beach on the southern coast. And when they took him away from me, locked me up here, I have never hurt so much in my life. He was my little boy.

I guess that’s how she felt.

The mother.

You would think a woman who hadn’t seen her kid in three years wouldn’t be allowed to have him back, but apparently when the child’s ‘kidnapped’ the rules changed. Daniel wasn’t kidnapped. He was happy where he was, with me. He got used to it. He … he … he …

No matter what I say I can’t convince myself what I did was right. But them, taking him away from  me, they didn’t do anything right ether.

He’s gone now. Disappeared…

I’ll get him back though. If she could do it, the mother, then I can…

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