Child Vanishes From School Trip
Little Billy didn't want to go to school on Friday. "I hate school trips Mom. They're boring!"
Truth be told Billy was scared. He was an over-sensitive child- afraid of everything. His Mom was well aware of his fears in life and worried a lot about the best way to deal with it. She did her best not to show him her concern and encourage him to be more at ease in his world.
"But Billy you like history class and you like boats. The Whaling Museum will be fun. They have that whale skeleton and the big boat you can go aboard. Here's your hat - give me a kiss."
"O.K. Mom I'll try" said Billy as he tugged his ball cap on his head and pecked his Mom on the cheek.
Little did Mom know Billy's fears would be well founded.
Everyone at the Museum liked Ibraham. No one could remember a time he wasn't there. Small of stature, he was all sinewy muscle. He still whipped around the big building keeping everything spotless and ship shape. No one knew his age, he'd never say. His hair was white now, close cropped tight curls. His copper skin had few lines and his dark eyes flashed when he smiled. If you looked at him real close you could just see the faintest blue tracings of tattoo on his cheeks. You almost thought you imagined it.
Ibraham liked to stay around after work and tell stories of the great whaling days to the children who would come on field trips. Was it his Grandfather's stories he told of going after the great beasts in little matchbox longboats? Or how they had been plucked from their native islands while drunk to build these vast fortunes? Everyone was enthralled by Ibraham's stories, no matter how often they had heard them.
Ibraham's favorite room was the one who's walls were covered with old sailcloth painted with scenes of native South Sea villages. In glass cases were relics brought back as curios. Even little heads stared out to scare you. In here Ibraham told his family stories to groups of wide eyed children.
Billy was feeling proud of himself for doing O.K. on this trip. He even allowed himself to enjoy climbing all over the boat and hearing how the marine science people had reconstructed the whale bones high over head. At the end of the day Billy walked off to go to the bathroom. He didn't think to tell anyone. Dawdling as children do, when he came back to the foyer it was empty. The bus was gone from outside. Only Ibraham was there mopping the floor.
The next morning the police were combing the building before opening time. Billy's Mother was in the lobby hysterical. The teacher was seeing herself fired because she hadn't done a proper head count and realized Billy wasn't on the bus.
Ibraham watched out the corner of his eye as he mopped the hallway.
"Is this your son's ball cap Mame?" "We found it by the big black pot in there."
Truth be told Billy was scared. He was an over-sensitive child- afraid of everything. His Mom was well aware of his fears in life and worried a lot about the best way to deal with it. She did her best not to show him her concern and encourage him to be more at ease in his world.
"But Billy you like history class and you like boats. The Whaling Museum will be fun. They have that whale skeleton and the big boat you can go aboard. Here's your hat - give me a kiss."
"O.K. Mom I'll try" said Billy as he tugged his ball cap on his head and pecked his Mom on the cheek.
Little did Mom know Billy's fears would be well founded.
Everyone at the Museum liked Ibraham. No one could remember a time he wasn't there. Small of stature, he was all sinewy muscle. He still whipped around the big building keeping everything spotless and ship shape. No one knew his age, he'd never say. His hair was white now, close cropped tight curls. His copper skin had few lines and his dark eyes flashed when he smiled. If you looked at him real close you could just see the faintest blue tracings of tattoo on his cheeks. You almost thought you imagined it.
Ibraham liked to stay around after work and tell stories of the great whaling days to the children who would come on field trips. Was it his Grandfather's stories he told of going after the great beasts in little matchbox longboats? Or how they had been plucked from their native islands while drunk to build these vast fortunes? Everyone was enthralled by Ibraham's stories, no matter how often they had heard them.
Ibraham's favorite room was the one who's walls were covered with old sailcloth painted with scenes of native South Sea villages. In glass cases were relics brought back as curios. Even little heads stared out to scare you. In here Ibraham told his family stories to groups of wide eyed children.
Billy was feeling proud of himself for doing O.K. on this trip. He even allowed himself to enjoy climbing all over the boat and hearing how the marine science people had reconstructed the whale bones high over head. At the end of the day Billy walked off to go to the bathroom. He didn't think to tell anyone. Dawdling as children do, when he came back to the foyer it was empty. The bus was gone from outside. Only Ibraham was there mopping the floor.
The next morning the police were combing the building before opening time. Billy's Mother was in the lobby hysterical. The teacher was seeing herself fired because she hadn't done a proper head count and realized Billy wasn't on the bus.
Ibraham watched out the corner of his eye as he mopped the hallway.
"Is this your son's ball cap Mame?" "We found it by the big black pot in there."
posted by minniepeckham at 1:07 PM
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