String Boy

String Boy {bitem:1048148
Day 1
The bus trembled at the weight of the rowdy children and drowned within the small murky trenches. An agitated rain erupted from somewhere off in the sky. It was a rain that was full of so much bitter coldness that even when one was inside you could not shake its essence off your limbs.

The heads of the kids on the bus battered against the seats every time the bus hit another dip. A thirteen-year-old blond haired boy with straw like hair and crow black eyes leaned his head against the windowpane and let it slap the glass every time the yellow box jumped. He had ears that were as small and vermin-like as a snake’s, just two slits in the side of his head. The boy picked up his backpack from the filthy floor, his hands shaking with anticipation as he groped for a piece of string he had stuck in his one of the compartments earlier before he left the house. From his coat pocket he extracted a Lego man. It looked weathered with half an arm missing and one eye scratched out, although, it seemed sturdy nonetheless. The bus rounded a sharp corner and climbed up a hill passing the cemetery. The boy tied a noose around the Lego man’s neck and gave it a yank to make sure it was in proper function.

The bus rattled as its breaks tried to stop the resistance of gravity when it slipped down the ice-covered hill. The blond haired boy took one end of the string in his right hand and in his left hand he held the end where the Lego man was. He tossed it out the window and it smacked into the side of the rusting life size cereal box-like toy, the boy smiled with a toothy display that allowed anyone to clearly see how abstract he looked, how one could easily fit a quarter vertically between the abnormally large gaps.

As the bus swerved on a turn the Lego man flew with the turn and skirted on the grimy road behind them. The boy looked as though a jolt of pleasure had enfolded around him.

“Look my Lovely, look at what I have brought for you,” his caressing the air around him.

The gaudy yellow school transportation suddenly stopped in order to let another segment of kids load up the bus. Among the fleet was a lanky girl of sixteen with curly brown hair whom sat at the back in the last seat with an abnormally large boy whose hair was so oily that to run a comb though it would only be a mistake. However, she was a rose of a “rare” sort and had fair skin except for lively rosy cheeks.

“Hello Manni,” she said. “How are you doing today?”

He resembled something that looked like it should’ve been a Christmas bulb but trimmed in Halloween attire. He grinned and motioned his head for her to look at the seat across from them where the boy with the string sat. His crow-like eyes contrasted against the sun that began to rise with a foggy haze blurring it out. A photograph peeked out from the pocket where String Boy always kept his string. It twitched as the incoming wind from the open window rustled it teasingly. She watched String Boy cooing the air, “do you see it my Lovely, do you like what I brought for you?”

“What in the hell?” She snickered.

Manni looked at her in dismay and shrugged. Both friends were at loss for the boy’s awkward conversation with the air. It seems that loneliness was his greatest friendship.

All of a sudden the boy leapt from his spot, standing on the seat. His feet twittered up and down as if he were on hot coals. This grabbed the attention of Manni the girl. They could clearly see String Boy was now on his knees, gleefully tugging at the string as if it were a fishing line and he thought he might get the catch of the day.

The girl with curly brown hair turned around and looked out through the window at the back of the bus. She could see a piece of gray yarn trailing behind the bus with a Lego man attached to the end. The noose that kept the two connected contracted, getting tighter as the tugs stressed it out.

The two onlookers exchanged looks of disbelief. Neither of them was sure how you properly respond to a situation like this.

“He’s an idiot,” Manni declared in a triumphant voice.

String Boy paid them no heed, his eyes twinkled with pride as he murmured, “my Lovely, look what I have found for you.”



Day 2
The rain had carried on throughout the night and into the morning. The atmosphere became dense with precipitation. One could look above and gaze at the sky above swirling in clouds of gray-green. The chill still lingered and began to live as a parasite off all the lively green around them, frosting them over. Manni sat at the back of the bus and watched as String Boy took out the same piece of gray yarn and tossed it out the window with delight. It was the second day of the entertainment with the string and it seemed to be drawing as much attention as a new born car accident. Over half the kids on the bus were crowded around the one back seat bringing the atmosphere of claustrophobia, and every time the Lego man hit the ground it only seemed to get stuffier.

After the bus passed the cemetery Manni noticed that the girl with curly brown hair had never got onto the bus. He chose not to take it too personally and enjoyed this opportunity to take part in String Boy’s game. He decided to try and engage the kid into some kind of conversation. Maybe he would even let him hold the string. With that Manni took a lead off of the only thing he could think of and asked the blond haired kid casually, “so, what’s the picture that you have in your pocket of?”
String Boy gave him a blank stare that was only interrupted when he said in a nervous voice, “I didn’t steal anything.”

The bulb-like kid looked at him in confusion, “I never said you did.”

The boy seemed to change into what appeared to be a marionette puppet and in a repetitive voice said, “I don’t have anything.”

Manni’s expression changed and he quickly became irritated. He decided to just go back to his seat, defeated, and pull off the subject he started with.

The bus suddenly swerved off the dirt road countryside and onto the paved highways. Cars started to line up behind the bus. String Boy gave his newfound toy more slack and let its dead weight go limp against the wind, hopping away from the bus’s side on and off again like rain drops. He hunched over his hands and arms and proposed in a small voice, “my lovely, watch what we can do to things with this string, watch it hit a car.”

Now the crow-eyed boy had his entire hand and part of his arm outside the window as if to see how close he could get to actually hitting a car. The cars behind them slowed down a little and kept a bit of distance between the bus and their car. However, the bus had to make yet another sharp turn past an intersection, which only had half the lights working. All the others had either been burnt out and not replaced or had decomposed to disrepair. The cars behind the bus miscalculated the distance and the Lego man attacked the offender’s windshield.


The bus was crowded with familiar faces as everyone struggled to find a seat for the ride home. String Boy was in his usual seat. Manni and the girl with curly brown hair sat across from him. Her face was set stern as she watched String Boy take out the piece of gray yarn and throw it outside the window of the bus yet again. The kid with blond hair allowed that boyish smile to shine over his face, which seemed like an oxymoron with his malevolent eyes. It was almost as if one could read a story through them, but the story was deformed by a layer of thick black ash.

The bus groaned and rattled as it came to the first stop. A dozen kids clambered off the bulky yellow vehicle in disarray. They enveloped around the window of the blond haired boy and began probing at the toy. The boy looked down at the picture in his pocket and saw the curly brown haired girl eying it and he hurriedly stowed it away in a cumbersome manner. Outside the kids were violating the Lego man. The rain seemed to suffocate it, stabbing it with its dagger drops. It gasped for breath as the noose tightened. One nearly got a hold of it, but the blond haired boy took notice and reeled it back in. “No,” he said firmly trying to tug it back, “It is my present for Lovely,” he said in a smaller voice, “I found it.” They shouted back a few obscene things, skipping around jeering at him until all interest was lost. The children unanimously proceeded to walk down the shabby streets to their houses together. For entertainment during the rest of the walk they kept up a replay of String Boy’s reaction.

Many people were still circled around the boy with the string, cheering him on as the bus rolled down the dirt road. The girl with curly brown hair glimpsed at them and quickly turned her head away in the other direction as she started to whisper her thoughts aloud to Manni. “What an idiot,” she said with an increasing tone, “all he wants is attention, and look at them, they’re giving it to him.”

All of a sudden a small uproar started and she saw the boy reel in the string. A young black kid with a full face and hazel eyes looked at the boy in concern. “What happened to the Lego man?” he questioned.

The blond haired boy looked pain stricken and glanced around, turning his head in a choppy manner, searching for what to do next. The Lego man had ran away from his torturer, free from despair. The boy looked up from the forsaken string. His eyes illuminated from an idea he seemed to have just thought up. He unzipped the same zipper pocket and withdrew a little alien figurine. It had silver colored skin and was wearing a flashy purple colored robe. He tied the same old piece of string around the neck of the alien and tossed it carelessly out the window. “No worries my Lovely, I still have your present,” he said.



Day 3
It was the third day since String Boy had unleashed his hidden joy. The bus rounded the sullen cemetery, going about its usual rounds again. The inside of the bus had a musty air about it that made your nose itch and make you want to open a window. All the same, the wind bit one so much outside that it may have done more damage than the sneezes. It halted at the end of the street of the girl with curly brown hair. She loaded the bus with a few other full time kids and she went to the back of the bus to met Manni. However, today Manni noticed something different. She bestowed a malicious look on her face

“What is it,” Manni raised.

“I have an idea,” she said. She leaned in and whispered her secret to him. He made an unnatural giggle and started shaking his head in agreement.

“You’ve got to do it,” he persisted.

They both looked at the blond haired boy with a plot in their minds. She took out the same piece of gray yarn, now beginning to fray, and tossed it out the window. Half of the day’s previous onlookers started to lose interest once the boy started mumbling, “my Lovely look at the string.”

The blond haired boy leaned his head against the windowpane and listened to the bus’s heartbeat every time it became greedy about choosing the right potholes to run over. The girl with fair skin and curly brown hair proceeded with Manni at her cue. He unzipped a pocket from her backpack. It growled at the evil deed and jammed the zipper from releasing its conspirous sin. She struggled a bit with the zipper until it gave loose and broke. Then, advancing towards the boy with a pair of scissors, she leaned forward a smidge as if to check and see whether or not the boy was paying attention, and finally without a conscience thought, made a quick snip across the gray yarn, killing it.

The boy with yellow hair didn’t realize the crime that had been committed until Manni innocently asked, “hey String Boy, where did your string go? The cursed kid reeled in the defeated string and looked vacant at the loss of its other half. Not knowing what to do he just stared off into space. Manni took this as his cue and as the kid’s eyes glazed over he reached forward and pinched the ever so small of a fragment corner of the picture in the boy’s pocket and gracefully slid it out. The boy took no heed.

The girl with curly brown hair retreated back to her seat followed by her partner in treachery and she started giggling furiously. Manni had a look on his face that mirrored hers. Three minutes later the girl with curly brown hair turned cold with disbelief. She watched as String Boy pulled out an entire ball of gray string and a piece of metal, tying it to the end. He leaned into where no one could see his face, “watch this my Lovely, watch what I can make it do for you, watch it spark.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” the girl shouted out as she greedily seized the picture out of Manni’s hand. “Well look what I have,” she said waving it teasingly above his eye level, “and if you don’t stop with that immature string game I’m not going to give it back to you.”

She turned the photo over and her face made a sickly looking expression. The picture seemed to pull her into a trance. She could see String Boy holding a noose where the head would slip through and laced his arm inside. He held the other end out to her and gave her a smile. “Come with me, let me show my Lovely. The curly brown haired girl felt as if gravity was urging her towards him. She took one end in her hand and felt her body spin.


She stopped when she appeared to be at what seemed a deserted field with a farmhouse in the middle. String Boy was leading her up to the house through a latched screen door, into a cramped kitchen. A lean handsome woman sat knitting at the kitchen table, listening intently to a precious boy beside her. He looked very similar to String Boy only built better, with his eyes of a deep ocean blue, and whose skin was sun kissed with selected freckles.

“Mama,” the angelic voice said.

“Yes,” she cooed.

“I got elected for class president again.

“That’s brilliant.”

“…and I got a gold star because I was the only one to get an “A” on our short story.”

“Where are you going to stick this one?”

They continued to chatter freely as the girl with curly brown hair sat unnoticed. Not too long after she felt a tug at the end of the noose she was holding. “Let me show you my Lovely,” String Boy urged. She was being led to a drab row of a dozen steps, each bringing her to a lower level, each caving in with water damage. She carefully tiptoed down the stairs unaware that no one could see her and finally stopped at the bottom of what appeared to be a dirt-stricken cellar floor. Concrete walls around her echoed a familiar voice she recognized. In front of her rocking gently was a much younger looking boy with black crow-like eyes and slits for ears. He was sitting on a dirty featherbed and was whispering in a giddy voice to a bundle in his arms. “I’ve got something for you my Lovely,” he said. He set the bundle down and it quietly meowed. “Shhh,” he hissed, “Mama can’t know you’re here, you’re not allowed.” He patted her tenderly on the head. He then motioned to get a wad of something from his pocket. It was a bundle of yellow yarn. The animal’s eyes widened. “This is a present for you,” he tossed it to her playfully. The gray bundle of fur pounced generously on the ball and twittered about it frantically in excitement, trying to catch it. The boy made a full-hearted, true gut-like laugh, and it projected throughout the cellar. He quickly threw his hands over his mouth as if startled. He listened intently to see if anyone had heard.

“Where is my ball of yellow yarn?” a women’s voice shrieked. “I need to finish my knitting, go find your brother, he steals everything of mine,” she accused. “I’ll beat him cold I will.”

The boy with crow eyes clumsily wrapped the gray fury animal into a couple of rags. The door to the cellar whipped open and the ocean-eyed kid came trotting down.

“Mama wants her knitting string back,” The handsome child clicked.

“I don’t have any string. I didn’t steal anything,” The crow-eyed boy added.

“Yes you did, I saw you steal it from Mama’s…”

He stopped abruptly, the bundle twitched, creating a distraction. String Boy shuffled in front of it but it was too late, the animal rolled out.

“A kitten?” the handsome boy mocked. “Mama is gonna’ beat you red.”

“No, please, don’t tell Mama. I’ll do anything,” the boy pleaded, his crow eyes becoming blurry.

“First,” the handsome boy started, his face evolving into a smirk, “give me that ball of string you stole from Mama...”

The crow-eyed boy hurriedly threw the wad at him.

“…and then,” he continued, “…write my acceptance speech for class president, they seemed to lap up last years,” he proceeded, “…and you can also finish my arithmetic homework and make sure to write it in the black ink colored pen, not the blue this time.”

“Is there anything else?” the foggy eyed boy looked up hopefully.

“If there is you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” the boy said graciously.

The girl with curly brown hair felt a more urgent tug at her end of the noose. String Boy looked at her gravely and said, “I gave him Lovely’s string but that wasn’t enough.” She followed him. This time she was being pulled backwards to where she could unmistakenly see both rooms at the same time. At the bottom she saw String Boy scoop up his kitten and start rocking it, speaking softly words she could not hear. Above that was the kitchen. The handsome woman was tapping her foot impatiently on the sticky linoleum floor. Shortly after her dear son appeared before her with a satisfied look on his face as he held up his prize.

“I found your string Mama.”

“Found it did you?” she eyed the ball. “How do you expect me to knit with it now? Look at it, it is all frayed and just as useless as you.” The ball of yarn was indeed a yellow matted mess from the saliva of the kitten, and it was frayed from being in String Boy’s pocket so long

“It wasn’t my fault Mama, it was…”he trailed off.

“I know, “she sighed. “It was that damn brother of yours. “I guess I’ll just have to go out to town and buy some more. With that she picked up her keys and walked out the door. “Make sure your brother behaves,” she said as an addition to her farewell.

The girl with curly brown hair and fair skin looked back down at the view of the cellar. Now both twins were down there.

“I’m gonna’ get that cat,” he shouted hysterically. “I almost got into trouble with Mama. She said that I have to make sure you’re going to behave.”

“String Boy looked up dazed at his brother. “I won’t let you.

“We’ll see about that.” He tore the cat out of String Boy’s grasp, holding it tauntingly above his head. “Look what I have,” he said with a malicious grin. “I know you won’t stop causing trouble, so you’re not getting her back.”

The brown haired girl took in a short breath.

“Please give her back,” the crow-eyed boy begged. Her tried to jump for the kitten.

The handsome twin ran up the stairs of the cellar, past the kitchen, and into a bare living room where only a wooden ceiling fan filled the space, circulating. He then balanced the kitten between his hip and elbow, she cried out. String Boy caught up with his brother and struggled to get to the kitten but he was kicked back and fell over. The handsome boy made a swift noose and roped it around the cat’s neck.

“You wouldn’t stop playing your game,” he shouted. With one hand he held the kitten and with the other he threw the ball of frayed string up into the moving ceiling fan, it caught it, taking the kitten for a ride. Crack, the kitten lay limp, swiftly circling their heads with the motion of the fan blades.

A misty haze swirled around the images and the voices grew fainter.


A dreary image of a cemetery came into view, a familiar cemetery. The girl with curly brown hair saw the handsome mother in disarray, howling. The woman was crouched over a long rectangle-like box that was propped up by a few metal bars. Behind her was a crowd of people. The crow-eyed boy was at the tail end, looking off into another direction. His face looked relaxed, carefree. The brown haired girl pushed forward toward the sobbing woman and quickly stopped to listen in on a hushed conversation.

“What happened,” an elderly man with horn-rimmed glasses questioned a younger woman in front of him.

“I heard while the mother was out in town her little boy drowned,” she said in a quaky voice.

“How,” the old man inquired.

“No one knows. His brother was there. The poor dear must be heartbroken. It is a sad loss for the whole family.” They glanced over at the crow-eyed boy and gave him the deepest look of sympathy one could ever give.

The memory faded away


Manni looked at the curly haired girl. Her hand was shaking with the picture still in it. She could still hear the voices from the people’s conversation at the cemetery. They were becoming clouded with Manni’s voice. “Are you ok?” He asked. He noticed something different in her eyes. He saw a mixture of shock and understanding. All the while String Boy was staring at her intently.

“Do you like the picture?” he asked. “It was my Lovely. Isn’t she pretty?”

Manni’s mouth dropped when he saw the curly brown haired girl nudge him aside and walk past him, sitting next to String Boy.

“Yes,” she said, “Yes she was.” The air around them became more open and beyond the bus window she saw a patch of blue sky peeking behind the chaos as the bus rounded the hill past the cemetery to drop her off. Even the cemetery seemed to have a more peaceful atmosphere about it, an atmosphere of finality.

Manni glanced down at the photograph that the girl apparently dropped. In the dead center was a gray kitten with white boots and amber eyes. He turned the picture over and read two dates separated by a dash. Above the dates read, “R.I.P. Lovely.” He sat back in the seat, confused. He glanced over at the curly brown haired girl whom still looked sickly, but you could see traces of color returning to her face. Manni handed the picture back to the girl who passed it to String Boy. He took it with great care and placed it back in his pocket. “Do you want to see the string?” he asked, displaying it out before them.