From a character point-of-view I haven't explored yet with this particular story. This scene may be a little difficult to follow and may require a couple readings to fully understand it. Hope it makes sense by the end at least.
—-
I see the world through a set of bars that keeps me from going where I want to go.
I wait for lunchtime, the best time of any day.
The service is only so-so here.
I wish I would get more time to hang out in the yard.
I want lunch.
The guard ignores me, so I throw my empty bottle through the bars at her.
She says something loudly, angrily, and then walks out of sight.
I start hollering.
Then screaming.
I don't notice him at first, but here comes that tall, skinny guy with a pale shirt and dark hair.
He reaches into my cell and lifts me off my blanket.
I want lunch.
But at least I am free now. No more bars.
This guy shushes me and holds me to his shoulder.
He's rocking me.
Shhhhhhhhh.
I quiet down to hear his voice.
Tears and fluid from my nose drip onto his sleeve.
We're moving.
Over his shoulder, I watch the box with bars and the long, soft thing that people sit on glide away in the dimly lit room behind us.
The doorframe sweeps over our heads.
I want lunch.
Bright sunlight makes me blink.
The air moves over my face, and it smells like the flowery lotion Mommy rubs into my face after baths.
The guy carrying me sits down on the fresh-smelling green carpet next to the hard gray squares that people walk on in front of the house.
He opens a box and takes out several colorful round lumps.
He hands a blue one to me and leans over with a red one in his hand.
I watch him rub the red lump on the gray walkway, and lines appear.
A circle.
Two eyes and a mouth.
I lean over my short legs, which are stretched out in front of me, and sweep the blue lump onto the gray path.
The lump flies from my hand and rolls, but the guy at my side catches it.
He gives it back and holds my hand.
He guides my hand to make shapes on the ground, and my eyes widen in amazement.
Everywhere we rub the little chunk of blue, blue lines appear in familiar shapes.
Another face.
I let go and look at my hand. It is covered with blue dust that I can't rub off on my face.
The guy catches my hand again and wipes it with the bottom edge of his shirt.
He then goes back to drawing big, happy faces on the space where people walk.
I want lunch.
Then I hear a rumble, like thunder.
The big brownish creature with two spinning circles on each side zooms up to the house and stops.
The guy at my side lifts me up again and stands
I see a man inside the now sleeping creature.
Daddy!
The guy holding me shushes me again.
Next I'm being carried around the house to the wall made of huge sticks, which looks so much shorter when I'm up in somebody's arms.
The guy opens a part of the short wall and we move through.
I see the tiny house behind the house.
The tiny house is dark and crowded with long-handled tools and a machine that growls whenever it eats the grass.
The guy holding me crouches next to a huge brown sack under a wooden shelf and hugs me tightly in the dark.
I'm HUNGRY!
Still, he shushes me. That's all he ever does.
So I shush up, and I listen.
Nothing happens for far too long.
I try to squirm free.
FOOD FOOD FOOD!
The guy gives in and leaves the dark, cramped shelter.
He carries me to the back of the real house, and we enter through the door that looks like some kind of thin net in a frame.
Nobody else is around.
FOOOOOOOOOD!
I think the guy's starting to listen.
He opens the tall white box around the corner and I feel the coldness escape through the open door.
He takes out a small jar and opens it.
Then he sits at the table with me in his lap and spoons cold, green glop into my mouth.
YUCK!
I pull away and try to rub the slimy stuff off my face.
It gets all over the guy's shirt as I struggle.
I want the ORANGE glop!
He doesn't give in this time but just keeps scooping yucky green stuff off my chin and back into my mouth.
I keep spitting it out.
When he doesn't stop, I decide I'm too hungry to be picky.
Fine, I'll swallow this nasty stuff— oh! Eww!
Mmm. That wasn't so bad, but I dare not admit it.
Lunch takes longer than I'd hoped, but later I'm full and I don't care anymore.
Then I'm back in the guy's arms, riding high above the floor.
He washes me over the kitchen sink with one arm around my middle, holding my back to his chest, his free hand splashing water in my face.
I make as big a mess as I possibly can, making water drip down the counter, on his shirt, and to the floor.
On a towel on the floor, he changes me so that all my clothes are clean and dry.
By now I am so tired I can barely believe he's still standing.
We're back to the boxy cage on the floor in the next room.
The guy lowers me onto my blanket, and I look out through the bars at him.
Lastly he sticks that soft, squishy thing in my mouth, which I suck on contentedly as drowsiness takes over.
I'd really like him to sing to me, but this time he just goes out of sight, back into the room with all the yummy glop.
The service could be better, but I'm happy here.
Happy, safe, and full.
If only I didn't hear shouts and thuds in my dreams, life would be perfect.