Can a kid be trusted…

There was something right there at the back of the classroom, the teacher told a kid to take a bottle and catch it so that it could in the fullness of time be free. But when it was done, it fell to the ground like a wet tissue.

The child had forgotten to empty the milk from the bottle before catching the butterfly to set it free. Even after doing this and the lecture continued, still there was another white butterfly but they were hoovering over Joseph’s table.

One.

Two.

Three.

They showed up as though it was a family party, but no one was amused not even Joseph. He had a mind to look about the other table to see if everyone else had the same thing happening, but it was just him.

As the clock strikes 2:30 the teacher told the kids they could now wait for their parents, but Joseph left precipitously, following the butterflies that flew out as the teacher opened the door.

She ran after Joseph but catching him and losing hold of him in intervals caused them to run 0.2miles to the supermarket where two men were coming out of the exit.

They were both dressed in black and the teachers feet glued to the asphalt, pulled Joseph into her arms and stood there in protection of him.

In this neighbourhood, not much was known to happen. It hid further away from the centre of the city, so it was perfect for family and school going children. But one of them pulled out a knife and the other man held up what looked to the teacher, like a coin.

‘Is this what you want, this is barely enough to buy a lollypop for a kid,’

‘Don’t provoke me.’

‘I came to beg you for money, so why would you take from me?’

‘No long talking, give me…’

Blood leaked on the ground as the man staggered away from him, but noticing the kid in the teachers arm as his body lowers to the ground. No one could tell if he was in pain, and at this point he was laying there with his eyes opened.

Joseph’s mother on the other side of the road dropped her bag, waiting for the cars to go by and ran towards her son ignoring the man pulling the knife from the other man’s chest, he ran away and disappeared in thin air.

‘Mommy!’ Joseph ran to his mothers arms and the teacher watched him with no affectivity displayed on her face, she didn’t engage small talk she just stood there looking in the direction of where the man fell between the cracks in this reality and that. She thought the body would vanish too, but it was still there and he became their responsibility.

As the police was being called Joseph and his mom made it across the road and down the path where their home was. It was painted white, just like those little butterflies. They had to walk up a long staircase, as their steps counted down to the moment they would reach their door; the words, the shock and the irascibility that took those men’s conversation from living to dead, replayed in their heads like a scratched CD.

Joseph felt a strange feeling as though someone was following him. But he looked towards the steps behind and the sway of the trees left an erie impression that no one was there, but maybe only when he looks away.

With a slam of the door behind them, they were half certain they would be safe. But with a window tethering them to the outside world safety can only be guaranteed if the windows remained intact, without a shard raised to act as weapon. But who would kill her when the culprit was already gone with the wind?

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