Lloyd Margo's Orphanage
Maine
28 years ago
Lloyd Margo's orphanage had always been a very pitiful place, definitely not a place fit for children. Lloyd often makes the older children do maintenance work as "pay for their room" as he likes to say. One fine day he was sitting in the parlor with his wife Maria, flipping through pages of the newspaper. He read the article of a young boy who had found a young baby girl in on the side of the highway, they were both sent to an orphanage. Margo's orphanage to be exact.
Lloyd couldn't stand the stupid little pests the state sent his way, but he was funded well by Uncle Sam so he really didn't mind. The children were all upstairs in bed as they always were at seven o'clock sharp. There came a rap on the front door and Lloyd sighed heavily and folded his newspaper. He stood and approached the door, and when he opened it he was met by a small child, who couldn't have been more than seven years old.
"What do ya want?" Lloyd asked harshly.
"I don't know where I am," the young boy said, shaking in fear of the overweight man. "I don't know who I am."
Lloyd sighed heavily and grabbed the kid by the shoulder and pulled him inside. Lloyd slammed the door and turned to the boy, studying him. Maria came in to the room and saw the boy; she raised an eyebrow to her husband and said, "Where did he come from?"
"I donno," Lloyd said in his strong New Englander accent. "He jus' showed up at the door!"
"Well, send him up to bed," Maria said, waving her hand dismissively. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."
"I reckon we will," Lloyd said, he turned to the boy and smiled wickedly. "Welcome to hell, boy." He kicked the young boy toward the stairs and laughed menacingly. The little boy was stuck in a room full of beds and one crib. He was tossed into a bed that creaked loudly with every small movement. "Now keep it down and go to sleep." Lloyd said as he walked out of the room. He shut the door and returned to his chair in the parlor.
The boy was lying in his bed, rubbing his tushie and crying softly, when a voice came from the darkness. "Don't worry, it gets better."
The boy sat up abruptly and looked around and, when his eyes adjusted, he saw a small boy with curly red hair who must have been no older than him.
"What's your name?" Curly asked.
"I… I don't know," the boy sniffled.
"You don't know?" Curly asked. Then with some though he said, "I'm going to call you Jiminy. Do you like that name?"
The boy nodded and smiled at the silliness of the name. "What's your name?" Little Jiminy asked.
"I'm…" the boy hesitated. "I'm August. August Booth."
"It's nice to meet you, August," Jiminy said, smiling. He settled down in bed and closed his eyes despite the fact that there was still light in the sky and drifted into the deep sleep…