Get it for
Apple iOS.
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2189380
Rated: ASR · Fiction · Emotional · #2189380
Hayden hides out from his babysitter in a treehouse, in the rain.
No Dialogue Challenge Apirl 2019 - Prompt: "Rain" (640 Words)


Hayden Squires shivered as he sat on an overturned wooden box, staring out of the smeared Perspex window of his stepbrothers’ treehouse. He was eight and a half years old, riddled with mischief and selective hearing, making him a regular patron of naughty chairs and bedroom banishments. His short, lean stature allowed him to fit into some of his younger stepsibling's larger hand-me-downs, saving on his foster family's clothing bills. At present he was wearing a Spiderman baseball cap, Road-Runner hoodie, faded blue jeans and a pair of red and white Reeboks, all of which had seen better days.

The late-afternoon rain had set in, and mist now hung low over the distant hills. A strong southerly wind was whisking brittle leaves around the backyard. He watched the swing set, west of the greenhouse, being buffeted about, as if ridden by nefarious ghost children. Saturated garments dripped from the clothesline and a pair of “Power Rangers” underpants had fallen from its peg, lying in the lush grass.

Toward the end of the backyard sat an empty dog kennel, with a leather leash still lying outside; both constant reminders of what broke his heart. Tears welled, as he recalled wresting and chasing after Akamuru at the park. He felt ashamed of the tantrums he had sometimes thrown, about having to walk it in the rain instead of watching his favourite cartoon shows. Their friendship had only lasted ten months, but he was positive the pain of loss would last a life time.

His stepparents were in the process of searching the Internet for a replacement pet for him, but he felt reluctant to invest new affections in any creature that remunerated his love with an ultimate departure. It was as though his father’s incarceration and mother’s suicide, as well having to adjust to a whole new family wasn't traumatic enough. Lung cancer had taken the life of his only solace; delivering the final crushing smite to his cheerful disposition.

Hayden checked his red "Cars" watch and saw it was just after 4:25pm. The thought of remaining in the treehouse another ninety five minutes, until his stepmother’s return, still seemed preferable to suffering Mrs Kimble’s incessant scolding. She was a large framed woman with long chestnut hair and dagger-like fingernails. Hers was a wrath best avoided, something he learned at the price of a sore bottom, the afternoon she replaced his former more tolerant babysitter.

The wooden treehouse, though crudely constructed from planks of second-hand timber and sheets of galvanized iron, offered ideal shelter from the rain and did not leak as some of neighbourhood forts and tree-clubhouses did. It had a very well-used and untidy motif. Most of the left and right walls were decorated with tattered Pixar and Sci-fi posters, while the back wall had a whiteboard and marker pens that his stepsiblings and he used to plot assorted mischief.

The wind paused briefly and Hayden heard a faint noise from below. Curiosity motivated a closer investigation. He crept toward the treehouse’s entrance, looked down and surprised to see Simba, a stray ginger tomcat that occasionally dropped by for food and affection. It mewed pitifully then struggled it’s up the rope ladder toward him. He stretched down, grabbed hold of Simba and carried it inside. Seconds later lightening lit the sky and thunder cracked directly above, roaring like a cannon. He gripped the saturated moggy tight, as if embracing a teddy bear. Rain turned to hail and pelted loudly against the iron roof.

Hayden gradually calmed down and slumped down on the box again. He checked his watch. It was now 4:55pm; still another 75 mins to go before his stepmother’s return. He peered out the Perspex window at the saturated backyard, and slowly fell asleep with Simba curled up on his lap; both lulled by the sound of rain.

© Copyright 2019 lezismore-author (peterelbee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2189380