Author's Note/Disclaimer: Okay, to get this out of the way- I don't own anybody from To Kill a Mockingbird (though I do own a black cat named Boo Radley). This story is going to be a one shot, a kind of a memoir from Boo's POV. If it gets good reviews then maybe I'll write a longer story- maybe like Boo's diary. But for now- here is my stab at Boo's mind. Enjoy!
IfI Had One Wish…..
I remember the time papa loved me. It was a while back, so long ago in fact, that people wonder how I can recall it. But there are some memories that the mind never let's you forget. I still remember the exact day, it was a cold one- as cold as you can expect down here in Maycomb. The night was so chilled that it could steal your breath away if you dared venture outside. Mama had built a fire and I was sitting on my chair, next to papa. I was ten then and innocent to the whole world. Papa was reading his newspaper, cutting me out different articles that he thought would strike my fancy. I didn't really like any of them, but I pretended I did anyways. I cherished that time with my papa. It was that night that he asked me the question that would haunt me till this day; the question that is permanently etched into my brain. Papa turned around and fixed me with those dark eyes of him. I can still clearly here his voice, all gravely and rough like.
"Arthur" he said "If you could have one wish, what would it be?" It seemed like an unimportant question at that time, and I don't even remember what I said. Isn't that an odd thing? I remember the question so clearly, but I can't recall my primary answer to it.
Times changed, though. I grew older and Papa started to love me less and less. He started to ignore me, treat me like I was a shame to the family. Mama was always wondering why I didn't go out and play. But who would I play with? Maycomb was new to me. There were no boys my age that I knew well enough to explore creeks or play ball with. I had been kept inside my whole life- how was I supposed to go out now? The sun always burnt my skin and eyes and the smell of grass and dirt was like sewage to me. I wasn't a normal child- and my parents took notice of that. They treated me differently, treated me like a passing shadow. Papa merely coughed every time I talked to him, not even bothering to waste his energy to answer me back. Papa didn't talk to me and mama never had. The only person I had to keep me company was myself. I started reading the newspaper, cutting out articles that I thought my father would like. I thought if I gave him presents, like newspaper clippings, then he would like me better. Papa didn't like the articles though, and unlike I had done, he didn't even pretend to like them for my sake. Papa was one of the smartest men I knew, but he failed to see that my heart was breaking right in front of him.
If I could have wished for something then, I would have wished papa could have been like he used to.
The silence directed towards me from both my parents took its toll on me. If there is one thing that drives a man crazy, it's complete silence. Except for the occasional coughs from me father, my ears did not hear any sound, so I took to talking to myself. Just to hear a human voice was enough for me. My mama though, thought I went insane and kept shooting me dirty looks until I stopped talking altogether. Instead, the silence beat in my ears, like a large orchestra with no conductor that has fallen into utter chaos. I knew that I couldn't take the silence any longer, couldn't stand hearing nothing yet feeling everything- hate, anger, sadness.
If I could have wished for something then, I would have wished that the sound had been like it used to be.
The silence of my mind pushed me to take drastic actions. There is only so much time a man could sit and be content with hearing nothing but the beating of his heart. That day I stabbed my papa with the scissors I had been using to cut the newspaper with I know it was wrong, but when I heard his scream and my mama's shrieks, I was in heaven. Looking back on that now- I can see why people thought I was insane, smiling while my father cried in pain. But the sound! Just to hear that sound was euphoria to me. You wouldn't understand. You didn't spend years listening to nothing. If you had, then you too would comprehend how wonderful it was to finally hear sweet, lovely noise.
Court dates followed, guidelines were given, and punishments were suggested. My father declined all the proposals of sending me to jail or to the mental asylum. Instead he decided to look me up in a prison of his own. I was forced to stay indoors and face the same silence that I had before. This time, I was locked in one of the side rooms for "the protection of myself and my family".
If I could have wished for something then, I would have wished that my life could have been like it used to be.
I stayed in that hell-hole of a house, talking to myself, knowing that there were plenty of rumors going around about what a spook Arthur Radley was. What most people didn't know was that my room had a window- a window that was my salvation in the years to come. If I stuck my ear to the glass pane, I could hear what people were saying on the outside; and if I looked out a certain opening in the curtains, I had a slight glimpse of what was happening. I heard the neighbors talk, heard whispers about a "Boo Radley". I assumed that was me, who else could it have been. Boo…the name grew on me, and soon I found me calling myself by that name.
The neighbors generally didn't interest me. But I did find amusement in the Finch children who lived not to far away. I heard them talk, saw them run across my house, not daring to look up at it. Scout and Jem- two spitfire of kids. They were soon joined by another, wackier child, Dill. Dill was a seasonal child- only came when the months turned hot and scorching. I liked the three of them, though- they gave me entertainment, gave me a reason to live. I knew the old fashioned principle of being a good neighbor, though. If your neighbor gives you something, you give something back to them. I started seeking out, leaving small gifts for the two children in the tree out yonder. Small things, like gum and my cherished Indian-head pennies that I had kept for good luck. I even gave them my old watch, by most prized possession. But I felt like an animal, having to sneak out at night, stay hidden, while I left my presents for the children.
If I could have wished for something then, I would have wished that the world could have treated me like it used to.
Events happened later on, events that I won't write near nor say out loud to anybody. I like the way they float in my head, belonging to no one but myself. These events, though, caused me to leave my prison for a longer time than I had ever left it before. I saved the girl, Scout' life, and maybe her brother's as well. I was accepted into the family- met for the first time in a while with kind smiles and looks. It was foreign to me, kindness; I hadn't felt it for a long time. The girl Scout walked me back home, grasping my old weary hand in hers. She was a nice little thing and as I closed the door behind her, only one thought was in my head.
If I could have wished for something then, I would have wished that I could have been able to change myself sooner and have become the person I used to be…..
So what do you guys think? You love it? Hate it? Please review and tell me- I really appreciate it!