The Starting Line

My dream of becoming an author started in the third grade when we talked about what jobs we wanted when we grew up. All I wanted was to write books so that I could write books for other kids who wanted something more challenging to read, without entering the world of Y.A. That dream went on hold as I went through life, not forgotten, just put on the backburner. When I saw an advertisement for NYC Midnights flash fiction challenge I knew it was time to revisit my younger self’s dream.

I signed up for the Flash Fiction Challenge with my mom, hoping to spend some time at coffee shops together, working on our entries. The way the challenge works is you get assigned a group, and each group is assigned a location that your story must take place in, an object that must be present and a theme. All this must be contained within 1000 words and written in 48 hours. A fun challenge and a good way to get creative. The top 5 participants after two rounds move on, until the finals. No spoilers here on how far we made it :)

Here is my entry. It was the first time I wrote for myself, and not for a school project, so I had low expectations, but high hopes. My genre was historical fiction, the location was a warehouse, and my object was a pillowcase. I loved the challenge, and spent too much time diving into the research, but I am happy with the result.

Stockpiled Dreams

Two young boys in 19th century London share dreams and make plans to venture beyond the dirty streets of their hometown.

Alberts world was very small. During the day, it was limited to the tiny flat shared by his large family, the ragged school he attended for a few hours each morning and the textile mill he worked at to provide for his family. Surrounded by weathered brick walls and timber beams, men and women bustling by in varying shades of brown, nothing much excited him about day-to-day life. However, just before sunset, when he was no longer needed at the mill and before his family expected him home, his world grew. At the top of the Butler’s Wharf, the largest warehouse on the Thames, he could see the world, travelling in and out of cargo ships. He would meet his friend Francis, and together in an empty corner of the top floor, they would expand their world, reaching their imaginations to the vast corners of the earth. Each ship brought with it a multitude of treasures, sugar, spices, tea, alongside stories of those living on the other side of the water.

Together at the top of the warehouse, the boys would play with Albert’s small collection of clay marbles, and Francis would share his knowledge of these distant lands, trading their goods with the men of the docks below. At 13 years of age, a whole two years Albert’s senior, Francis’ word was infallible. He spoke of the lands across the ocean, each one more exotic than the last. Bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, Albert’s world was no longer limited to the grimy bricks of the streets of London, or the soot covered windows he looked out of. He saw the lush greens of the pepper fields, the yellow mounds of turmeric, the sweet fields of sugar. The boys would plan their travels, dreaming of the people they would meet, the food they would eat, the riches they would see.

         “Someday you will see,” Francis explained, watching as the newest cargo ship appeared on the horizon. “I will be on one of those ships, free to see the world and gibfaced Mr. Miller will have to find someone new to nag.”

Albert thought to his long days in the mill scavenging under the mules, cleaning out an endless supply of cotton and thread. He thought of his family, who he barely even saw, each one of them needing to work to support each other. Would anyone even notice if he left? Would he stay, just to become one of the hollow older children he saw each day at the mill, exhausted from the work, but with no other option? Or one of the children who went under the mule, never to be seen alive again? He was a hard worker, he could find work on one of those ships. His small stature may give him away as a young boy, but he would find someone willing to overlook that. He would see where all these treasures came from, rather than fantasizing about them from a distance.

         “One day,” agreed Albert.

Albert returned home that night, dreaming about the open sea, the blue highway that could take him anywhere. Of course, he could never truly go anywhere. His family needed his income, however small it was, and he had no skills of use for a ship. Besides, nobody ever left London, his family had been here for as long as anyone could remember. This was just a secret dream, to be shared with Francis, and Francis alone.

The next day, Albert woke before the sun once again. He left for school with his other siblings before heading off to the mill for another day scavenging beneath the mules. He was exhausted by the end of the day but couldn’t bear to miss his few moments of freedom with Francis, trying to guess what new treasures were coming into their warehouse that day.

         “I’ve decided. I’m leaving tomorrow.” Francis shared. “There’s a ship that will take me. They say they’re going to Africa next. You should come with me, tomorrow after our work.”

Albert considered this, a chance to finally leave the mill, the school that never taught anything of interest, and the cramped quarters his family called home. He could see all they have been dreaming about. He would find the sources of all the treasures stockpiled inside this warehouse.

         “I’ll come,” Albert decided. “One last day of work. I shall be here tomorrow, ready to leave.”

Francis responded with a grin. “It’s no longer a dream Albert. Our lives are about to change.

That night, Albert grabbed the only thing he could think of that his family wouldn’t miss, his pillowcase, and packed what few belongings he had. A second shirt, his woollen vest for special occasions, and the few marbles he owned. He fell asleep to visions of all the far away lands he would see.

Albert skipped school the next day, going to stash his pillowcase at the top of the warehouse, so it would be ready to go when he saw Francis that afternoon. He went off to work, filled with excitement for the journey to come.

Francis arrived at the top of the warehouse later than usual that night. There was some sort of disruption that day in the section where Albert worked. He hadn’t heard what happened, but one of the mules had shut down. He would have to ask Albert about it when he saw him. The mules never stopped unless it was something truly drastic.

The sun slowly started disappearing from the sky, and Francis began to worry. He had found the small pillowcase containing Alberts clothing and marbles, yet there was still no sign of Albert.  He considered waiting, but as the sky grew darker, he didn’t want to risk losing his chance at freedom. And so, Francis set off to expand his world, leaving behind the pillowcase of a boy whose world will forever remain within the dusty brick walls. 

This ended up placing me 5th! I had to write the second challenge to see if I moved on the next round. Stay tuned to see how that went, and let me know what you thought of this story.