Finding Dumbo - Completed

Sorry don't know what category to put this in - I would like to put it in "Historical Fiction but It doesn't exist :)

"Dumbo" is an eight year old boy suffering from undiagnosed Shizophrenia in the 1800's. He has never had a Name...

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5. A new Friend

So cold. So hungry. So tired. Just sleep a little? No! Can’t stop, not now, not yet. Not ever. Voices all the time, “Your fault, all your fault!”

“Are you O.K?”

“Uh? Who liberty ducks smitten smiling elephant?”

“What the hell?”

“Technical frogs house slime.”

“And in English?”

I shut up. Why? What they want? Always asking, not tell them, they know nothing. Know nothing. Yet.

“Come back to my house. You look tired. And what are you wearing? Oh, I see. Uniform…”

“There’s a good boy; you come back with me now.”

Dumbo leant forward examining the boy. He sniffed the scarf, stroked the large woollen hat and scrutinised the scruffy brown shoes before taking the grubby little hand and allowing himself to be led away towards a nearby cottage. When they arrived the sight did nothing to console him. There was a wizened old lady with a head like a dried apple. Brown and wrinkled all over sat knitting in the porch. He had never liked needles. They reminded him of the voices. Always voices after needles.  His new friend spoke in lowered tones to the elderly woman.

“Asylum Uniform… Mad as a hatter……… talks….Voices”

Her head nodded along in time to the boy’s muttering. One, two, three; so sleepy.

“… By the lake….. Had a gun…….. Quite simple…… Dumb……… Know what I mean?”

He lifted his head from his hands, Dumbo? They only called him that with the needles and the pokers. Hot, Burning pokers.

“If you run to the big house and bring Mr Rooksby Then I’ll keep him occupied here.” Turning to Dumbo she continued “Would you like a drink, some beer, a slice of bread and butter?” She turned to enter the house.

“No, Burning, Too hot, Needles.” Dumbo stood up suddenly, knocking over a mug on the arm of the chair. “No. Going now!”

“Now, now, then. There’s no need to go anywhere. Jimmy hasn’t got back yet; and you wouldn’t like to leave without saying goodbye would you?” She turned around. Grinning nastily, a bread knife glinting in one hand and the knitting needles in the other. At this Dumbo bolted.

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