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Fiction, some thoughts and more fiction.

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Thursday, 16 September 2010

Out Of The Box

It was the realisation of the place that he was in.

It was small. The corners of the space that boasted restriction and confinement began to dig into his heels. It was full of light, but it was small.

He banged on the walls, the left first, and then the right, above and then below.

Nothing. No sound. Not even an echo.

He closed his eyes and tried to recall the times prior to his imprisonment. The light reminded him of his dreams.

It was smiles and laughs all round. Graduation. Acceptance. The proposal to take the scholarship.

''No''. He shook his head. ''I'm not able.''

He recalled that it was his own insecurities and fears that lead him into the box.

He banged on the walls, kicked at the floors. ''Somebody!!'' He bellowed. ''Please release me''.

He fell in and out of time, seconds, minutes, hours. He opened his eyes to the sounds of drilling as the lock to his box was broken away. Hands lifted him up, his thin small youthful innocence was carried away to a place of rescue.

He did well to take physio. The use of his legs was an effort in his attempt to use them. For so long he had been confined in that small box. Small steps at first, and then strides, jogs around the park eventually.

He looked outside as he walked about, taking in the clear blue sky, smelling the budding roses and swatting the bees from his face. It was a surprise to meet with the myriad of cars and buses zooming across the busy streets and the honking of the horns in irritation.

But crossing that busy road, holding a rose, he was met with the revelation of all he had to know.

He would often walk into office buildings, working as a cleaner, staring through the large conference doors at the large comfortable leather chairs. He would introduce himself to the men walking out of the office. They would look at him in disdain. He hummed as he cleaned and continued to dream.

At night, his lamp burned through as he read, new ideas beginning to flow through his mind.

''I'll make it one day,'' he said as he stared through the conference doors. He stared at two important looking men walking out of the building of a large computer firm.

At night, he worked hard. In his room, researching, trying and testing.

''We need some new ideas,'' one man said to the other. ''We need someone who will make a difference. The company is folding, We need help.''

Hoover in hand he stared intently at them.

''Hey kiddo,'' one of the men said. ''Here's a pound for your time.''

He smiled at them as he pocketed the pound. That would go a long way. ''I'll make it one day.'' He said adamant as he shoved the hoover at their feet in frustration.

''What's the matter with him?'' One of the men asked the other as he shook the dust away from the assault at his feet as they walked away.

''Some kid with big dreams but nothing going for him. I see him everyday,'' the other replied.

''He did tell me his name. Bill I think. I forget his last name. Yes, that's it,'' he said clicking his fingers.

''Gates. Bill Gates I recall.''