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The Window-
The downstairs window is the only view to Outside.
It’s small and square, and a white crack
Spiderwebs near the top.
The window’s image is a street,
Curving out of frame.
Houses and trees line the street, but since it’s
winter right now the trees are barren.
There are other windows in our house,
But they’re covered.
Blinds down, nailed shut.
I asked Mom once why all the other windows were covered.
She responded that it was for invisibility.
She never expanded.
But I’m sure it’s for good reason.
Mom would never do anything bad.
I know she wouldn’t.
Mom isn’t bad.
Mom isn’t a Stranger.
I can trust Mom.
Conversation #1
Me: Mom?
Mom: Yes, sweetie?
Me: Why can’t I go Outside yet?
Mom: Honey, I’ve told you why you can’t.
Me: But Mom, I still don’t und-
Mom: Sweetie, there are Strangers Outside.
Me: I know, but-.
Mom: Strangers who want to do nothing but hurt you.
Me: Yeah.
Mom: If you go Outside the Strangers will find you and they will hurt you. You’re too young to blend in.
Me: Okay.
Mom: So you understand now why you can’t leave right now?
Me: I do.
Mom: I’m just protecting you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.
Me: I know.
Mom: I love you, Ant.
Me: I love you too.
Mom: You know that I will always protect you.
Rules
- Only look out the window during the day.
- Don’t leave the house, under any circumstances.
- Don’t try to open the blinds on any of the other windows.
- If a Stranger knocks on the door, hide.
- If a Stranger jiggles the handle, hide.
- If a Stranger appears in the window, hide.
- If a Stranger knocks on the window, hide.
- If another house’s lights turn on, hide.
- Don’t follow Mom when she leaves the house.
- Don’t try to break the window.
- Don’t try to open the door.
- Don’t talk to Strangers.
- Don’t look through the mail slot.
- Don’t turn on the stove when Mom is away.
- Don’t go into Mom’s room when Mom is away.
- Don’t look out the window when Mom is away.
- Don’t disobey Mom, under any circumstances.
Me and Mom
My name is Anthony
But Mom calls me Ant.
I am eight years old.
I have brown eyes and hair.
Mom is blonde,
Gray hairs sprinkled within.
I don’t know how old Mom is
She says it’s rude to ask her age.
We live in a two-floor house,
On a street, in a place,
I don’t know where.
I read in a book that there are 7 continents
And almost 200 countries.
I wish I knew which one I live in.
Mom doesn’t like to talk about Outside.
She says there’s nothing I need to know from her about Outside right now
Because I won’t leave our house right now.
If I leave, the Strangers will hurt me.
I don’t want to be hurt.
(Auto)Biography
Once upon a time,
Two Strangers had a child.
That child was Mom.
Mom was different from the Strangers around her.
She was kind, soft, and generous.
She learned to hide among them,
Hide how she was different.
How she was normal.
One day, after Mom grew up,
She had a baby.
This baby was different from other Stranger babies.
Mom took him in her arms.
She knew she was like him, not a Stranger.
The child was me.
Mom found a house for us to live in
Away from Strangers.
Where we would be safe.
Strangers Are
Strangers are bad. Strangers are evil. Strangers are miserable. Strangers are horrible. Strangers are hostile. Strangers are horrific. Strangers are awful. Strangers are cruel. Strangers are wicked. Strangers are horrid. Strangers are corrupt. Strangers are backward. Strangers are rotten. Strangers are gross. Strangers are vile. Strangers are controlling. Strangers are despicable. Strangers are detestable. Strangers are strange. Strangers are unorthodox. Strangers are horrendous. Strangers are immoral. Strangers are murderous. Strangers are disgusting. Strangers are nasty. Strangers are vicious. Strangers are wretched. Strangers are malicious. Strangers are crude. Strangers are abusive. Strangers are harsh. Strangers are severe. Strangers are venomous. Strangers are authoritarian. Strangers are disgraceful. Strangers are cold. Strangers are insensitive. Strangers are genocidal. Strangers are hateful. Strangers are rageful. Strangers are devilish. Strangers are repulsive. Strangers are scornful. Strangers are low. Strangers are devious. Strangers are troublesome. Strangers are problematic. Strangers are cowardly. Strangers are predatory. Strangers are deplorable. Strangers are shameful. Strangers are rough. Strangers are strict. Strangers are shady. Strangers are nefarious. Strangers are formidable. Strangers are woeful. Strangers are tragic. Strangers are pathetic. Strangers are melancholy. Strangers are forlorn. Strangers are challenging. Strangers are stringent. Strangers are finicky. Strangers are fickle. Strangers are demanding. Strangers are tough. Strangers are unyielding. Strangers are manipulative. Strangers are selective. Strangers are abominable. Strangers are killers. Strangers are firm. Strangers are powerful. Strangers are potent. Strangers are poisonous. Strangers are vindictive. Strangers are assertive. Strangers are shrewd. Strangers are cunning. Strangers are toxic. Strangers are particular. Strangers are adverse. Strangers are damaging. Strangers are unfavorable. Strangers are grim. Strangers are stern. Strangers are intimidating. Strangers are fierce. Strangers are hideous. Strangers are unholy. Strangers are blasphemous. Strangers are crooked. Strangers are hurtful. Strangers are worthless. Strangers are guilty. Strangers are fraudulent. Strangers are unrepentant. Strangers are callous. Strangers are heartless. Strangers are atrocious. Strangers are barbaric. Strangers are brutish. Strangers are coarse. Strangers are culpable. Strangers are peccant. Strangers are rancid. Strangers are sickening. Strangers are disagreeable. Strangers are heretical. Strangers are grotesque. Strangers are unbelievable. Strangers are undeserving. Strangers are creepy. Strangers are dreadful. Strangers are frightening. Strangers are alarming. Strangers are fearful. Strangers are sinister. Strangers are unsettling. Strangers are spooky. Strangers are bizarre. Strangers are unnerving. Strangers are terrifying. Strangers are braggadocious. Strangers are wild. Strangers are unleashed. Strangers are dire.
Strangers are Strangers, and a Stranger is the worst thing anyone can be.
Schedule
6:30 am- Wake up.
6:45 am- Take a shower.
7:00 am- Come downstairs and wait for Mom to wake up.
7:30 am- Mom wakes up.
7:45 am- Mom makes me breakfast.
8:00 am- Finish eating, go upstairs, and brush my teeth.
8:30 am- Mom lets me read.
10:00 am- Mom house-schools me.
12:00 pm- Mom makes me lunch.
12:30 pm- Mom house-schools me again.
2:30 pm- Jump on the mini-trampoline.
3:00 pm- Mom lets me read.
4:30 pm- Mom lets me watch TV.
6:00 pm- Mom makes me dinner.
7:00 pm- Shower and brush teeth again.
7:30 pm- Watch a movie.
9:00 pm- Go to sleep.
House-School
Mom teaches me the important stuff when she house-schools me.
She teaches me how to read,
How to speak,
How to count,
How to add and subtract.
She teaches me everything I need to know to live in the house.
She teaches me exactly how the Strangers are bad,
How they hurt,
How they hurt,
How they hurt.
One Of Her Lessons
All people are Strangers.
All Strangers are people.
Every last person outside our house,
Every man,
Every woman,
Every boy,
Every girl,
Every baby,
Is a Stranger.
A Stranger with bloodlust,
A Stranger who wants to hurt us.
A Stranger who will hurt us.
Mom and I are the only outliers,
The only non-Strangers.
The only normal people in a topsy-turvy world.
Others Like Us
That lesson doesn’t make full sense to me at first.
How did Mom know there weren’t any other people like us?
Who says there aren’t others?
Other miracles like us?
When I asked Mom about it she said it was something she could feel
Deep inside.
She knew I was good
And she hasn’t felt that feeling since.
That meant there weren’t any more normal people left.
Everyone Outside was a Stranger.
Everyone else wasn’t like Mom and me.
Everyone else didn’t have what we had.
To Be A Stranger
I wonder what it would be like
To be a Stranger.
To be Outside,
To be like everyone else.
To be the villain,
The spook,
The bad guy.
Strangers control everything.
So what would it be like to be in control?
Wish
If I could have any wish,
It would be this:
I wish that Strangers didn’t exist.
I wish that everyone was normal like Mom and me.
I wish that neither of us ever had to worry;
I wish that Mom didn't have to do so much for me.
I wish we could be free.
I wish the world was as good as I dreamed it could be.
I wish we could stay here forever
But
I wish what isn't here was worth going to.
Mad
Mom almost never gets mad.
Almost.
Less
But doesn’t everyone get angry?
I’m pretty sure Mom is the second least angry person on the Earth.
Less angry than any Stranger.
Mom does more good than bad;
A lot more.
Example
An example of how good Mom is.
Mom got me a mini-trampoline for my fifth birthday.
She saw how restless I was getting,
How I would run around the house to get my energy out.
I was so excited that I jumped on it for hours.
She couldn’t take me Outside, so this was the next best thing.
I love Mom for what she does for me.
I love Mom for keeping me safe.
I love Mom for being here for me.
Blend In
Once a week, Mom goes Outside,
A space cadet exploring frontiers unknown.
She can blend in with Strangers,
They won’t hurt her.
She can’t bring me along because
I can’t blend in and they’ll hurt me.
She comes back with food and water,
Toys and books sometimes,
Games even more rarely.
Whenever she goes out she puts on big black sunglasses
And wears the thickest clothes she can find.
It helps her blend in better.
So they won’t hurt her and leave me alone
To be found, to be hurt.
I wish I could blend in, too.
I wonder what Outside looks like,
Outside past the window.
Older
I’ve always thought about what I would do when I’m older.
When I’m not a kid anymore,
When I’m an adult like Mom.
I thought she would teach me more about going Outside.
Let me go with her when she goes on her expeditions.
Learn how to blend in with Strangers.
But I’m sure that will come in due time.
I’m too young now, of course,
But soon maybe I’ll be able to leave.
Childhood is a fleeting thing.
Mouse
Once when Mom was gone I remember seeing a mouse.
The mouse was small, fat, and mostly gray.
Its ears were rounded off and pink.
I found it in the kitchen, feasting on a small piece of bread.
It didn’t see me.
I approached it slowly, taking careful steps.
The mouse still didn’t notice.
I was a few feet away when the mouse saw me.
It bolted, leaving behind the half-eaten piece of bread.
I chased after it.
It squeezed into a small crack in the wall.
I wondered where it went.
I wondered if the crack led Outside.
I still wonder now.
A Knock At The Door
Someone came to the door today.
I was eating lunch when I heard a gentle tapping.
A Stranger at the door.
Mom had me hide upstairs.
I went into my room, into my closet,
Hiding under a pile of clothes.
I put my ear to the closet door,
Listened as Mom opened the front door with a creak.
I buried myself deeper.
Did the Stranger know I was there?
The house was a fortress,
And when a fortress was breached,
Everything was lost.
Eventually, I heard the door.
I heard Mom call to me.
I untangled myself from my clothes and came downstairs.
The door was closed. Mom was fine.
Her eyes were watery. She pulled me into a hug.
She told me it was okay,
The Stranger was gone.
I was safe.
Mom repeated what she had said earlier.
She will always protect me.
And I believe her.
Mom would never hurt me.
Mom could never hurt me.
Scared
But
I’m still scared.
Still scared a lot.
A Stranger hadn’t come to the door in a long time.
The last time I was too young to comprehend what Strangers were.
If a Stranger knew I was here,
What would they do to me?
Mom never told me what Strangers would do to me.
My mind runs rampant with all the things they could do to me.
I list them in my head again and again.
But I know Mom would always keep me safe.
I know she would never let a Stranger hurt me,
Let alone find out where I was.
But
I’m still scared.
Still scared a lot.
Flour Or Flower
Whenever I’m scared
I remember something that happened a few years ago.
Mom and I were making a cake
And she told me to get two cups of flour.
Mom hadn’t been house-schooling me for long at that point.
So I didn’t realize the difference between “flour” and “flower”.
So I went off, tearing the heads off of flowers around the house.
When I presented Mom with a dirty mess,
She doubled over from laughing.
I was confused as to what I had done wrong.
She patted my head as her laughing dissipated.
Oh, Ant, she said.
You’re the most precious kid.
Now every time Mom’s baking something,
She never fails to remind me.
Hey, Ant, she’ll say. I need two cups of F-L-O-U-R.
Got it, I’ll respond.
It makes Mom happy, so it makes me happy too.
Gone Again
Mom left today.
It was weird for her to leave because she usually only leaves once a week,
And she already left three days ago, on Monday.
I asked Mom why she was leaving,
And she said
That she needed to get something from the store.
She would be back soon.
She told me to not turn on the TV when she was gone.
She left the house.
The house felt emptier than usual.
The Trash
Mom had been gone for an hour when I found the letter.
I found it when I was throwing something away in the trash.
The letter hung on the trash’s lips.
I grabbed it and read:
Dear Annie,
I haven’t seen you for several years at this point. Where are you? How are you doing? I honestly really miss seeing you. I’m not even sure if you live in the same house anymore. There’s a chance the person reading this letter isn’t even you at all. I just don’t understand what happened between us. Was it something I did? Did something happen to you? I hope you do get this letter, if not directly in some other way. I only want to talk to you, to reconnect. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and I wish we could have parted on better terms. So Annie, if you get this letter, please write back. Please tell me how you’ve been.
Your friend, Molly.
I frowned. Who was Annie? Was Annie Mom? That didn’t make any sense. Why would Mom know a Stranger? It must be the wrong person. It had to be.
Conversation #2
Me: Mom?
Mom: Yes?
Me: Why do the Strangers want to hurt me?
Mom: Because you’re special.
Me: How?
Mom: You’re not barbaric and horrible like them, and they see that. They see you’re a good person so they hurt you for that.
Me: Also…
Mom: What?
Me: What are the Strangers like?
Mom: Why are you obsessed with the Strangers all of a sudden?
Me: I’m just curious.
Mom: Fine, I’ll tell you. Strangers are like us in a lot of ways, at least on the surface. They pretend like they’re nice, they pretend that they don’t want to hurt you, but it’s all acting. But once they draw you in, they strike. No matter how cool and great Strangers seem, they will hurt you.
Me: What would they do to me?
Mom: ...
Me: Mom?
Mom: That’s enough about the Strangers, Ant.
Me: Okay.
Mom: I love you.
Me: I love you too.
Never
I never had any reason to mistrust Mom.
I never had any reason to think she would lie to me.
But she seemed so weird when I talked to her.
She seemed like she was hiding something.
She looked stressed.
I know she doesn’t like to talk about Outside,
At least outside of house-schooling,
But she seemed different this time.
She’s never shut me down like that.
There’s probably a reason, though.
I can trust Mom.
Mom isn’t a Stranger.
Mom would have a reason.
Maybe she’s still skittish from the Stranger at the door.
That makes sense.
That makes sense.
Right?
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