alcala0001
10-23-2010, 07:56 PM
Vincent played with his toy cars, making engine noises as he dragged them along imaginary roads on the rug in his room. Every once in a while he would run the cars along the wall, tracing the illuminated lines of sunlight cast through the nailed-closed shutters. Vincent wanted to play outside - more than anything - but he couldn't. Not yet. Vincent's spirits had been lifting as the calendar on his wall slowly marked the impatient march toward that one special day when he was allowed to play with other children: Halloween.
Vincent had not even stepped foot outside of this house, owned by Uncle Carl and Aunt Pam. He had moved here on November 2nd, after being ridiculed and taunted mercilessly. "Lumpyhead" was what they called him, and the kids that didn't run away in fright had wounded him beyond consolation. Most 8 year olds have only a limited concept of time, especially where days and months are concerned. For Vincent, the counting of days was a religion. Vincent was born to Arthur and Joyce, a very influential couple of breeding and wealth. He was to be the heir of the family empire, but things did not go as planned.
You see, Vincent was born horribly deformed, having not one, but several rare deformities. His hands had four thick digits terminated in claws. His head was a lump of flesh. looking like a snowball that was hastily packed. His skin was splotched with different shades of pigment. It was as if his parent's esteemed bloodlines had saved up all the genetic anomalies, sheltering generations of perfect stock, only to dump them all into this one child. Vincent was just as bright as the other kids, perhaps even more so, considering he could read and write despite not being allowed to attend school. His parents had arranged for him to be housed with distant relatives, far-removed, of course, under the condition that he not be revealed as their son. A long list of 'aunts' and 'uncles' had cared for him during his short life. Despite all this, Vincent still viewed the world with the joy and wonder of any 8 year old child.
Two weeks until Halloween. Vincent had first gone trick-or-treating when he was five. He was scared and excited at the same time as he made the rounds in his zippered-up bear costume, having never been around so many people. He had been complimented on his cuteness, and people actually gave him CANDY! The day after his first Halloween he had tried to go outside again, only to end up frightening the neighbors. All he had wanted to do was relive the previous night's wonder. The police were called and his parents sent a car to whisk him away before he became a ward of the state - revealing their shame. The second year Vincent had gone as a mummy, all wrapped in linen strips. Again, he was a hit, eliciting 'ooooos' and 'aaaahs' as he gathered up his candies. Last year Vincent had gone as a ghost, covered in a white sheet. Vincent had been invited by a neighbor to come and play some time, not realizing that he lived in seclusion next door. Vincent had often heard the children ouside and thought about how wonderful it would be to have friends to play with. Vincent had slipped out of the house and ran up to the kids, who ran from him and ridiculed him. Again he was moved. The name "Lumpyhead" still made his eyes brim with tears when he thought about it. This year Vincent was planning on putting green paint on and going as a Frankenstein, like he had seen on TV.
One more Week until Halloween. Aunt Pam and Uncle Carl had promised Vincent that if he obeyed all the rules and was a good boy, he could go out on Halloween. Uncle Carl had agreed to personally walk him around the block. His new aunt and uncle were nice enough people. They didn't hurt him or make him feel bad, but they didn't really pay too much attention to him, either. They had given Vincent books and small toys on his birthday, so he liked them just fine. As he peered down at TV from the top of the stairs, watching a Halloween special, He could barely contain himself. The week leading up to the big day was always nerve-wracking for the little boy.
Halloween Day. Vincent threw off his sheets and raced into the shower, reaching a splotchy, stubby, clawed hand out to turn on the tap. He sang Halloween songs he had heard from TV, and a few that he made up himself as he lathered and rinsed. Vincent was all chatter, making it hard for his aunt and uncle to ignore him. As the light outside faded and the hour grew late, his excitement was filled to bursting. Vincent ran upstairs and began applying his green makeup, blending and covering like a professional makeup artist. Tonight was the culmination of an entire year's worth of waiting - a lifetime for a child. There is a loud knock at the door as the first trick-or-treater arrives and Vincent scrambles upstairs, careful not to be seen as he peeks from the upper rail. A Fairy! Just like in his book! Vincent would like to be a fairy, but he wouldn't make a very good one. Monsters was what he felt more comfortable with.
Uncle Carl gets his flashlight and holds out his hand to Vincent. Upon feeling the strange little hand eagerly grab his, he shakes it off, making Vincent grab the other end of the flashlight instead. Vincent does an impatient dance, like when he holds in his wee too long and really has to go. Carl pulls down his own plastic mask to ensure his anonymity as he leads the eager little boy out the back door and down the porch stairs. They cut across an empty lot, so as not to reveal their point of origin as Vincent skips and sings, his candy bucket flopping wildly in his hand.
Vincent had not even stepped foot outside of this house, owned by Uncle Carl and Aunt Pam. He had moved here on November 2nd, after being ridiculed and taunted mercilessly. "Lumpyhead" was what they called him, and the kids that didn't run away in fright had wounded him beyond consolation. Most 8 year olds have only a limited concept of time, especially where days and months are concerned. For Vincent, the counting of days was a religion. Vincent was born to Arthur and Joyce, a very influential couple of breeding and wealth. He was to be the heir of the family empire, but things did not go as planned.
You see, Vincent was born horribly deformed, having not one, but several rare deformities. His hands had four thick digits terminated in claws. His head was a lump of flesh. looking like a snowball that was hastily packed. His skin was splotched with different shades of pigment. It was as if his parent's esteemed bloodlines had saved up all the genetic anomalies, sheltering generations of perfect stock, only to dump them all into this one child. Vincent was just as bright as the other kids, perhaps even more so, considering he could read and write despite not being allowed to attend school. His parents had arranged for him to be housed with distant relatives, far-removed, of course, under the condition that he not be revealed as their son. A long list of 'aunts' and 'uncles' had cared for him during his short life. Despite all this, Vincent still viewed the world with the joy and wonder of any 8 year old child.
Two weeks until Halloween. Vincent had first gone trick-or-treating when he was five. He was scared and excited at the same time as he made the rounds in his zippered-up bear costume, having never been around so many people. He had been complimented on his cuteness, and people actually gave him CANDY! The day after his first Halloween he had tried to go outside again, only to end up frightening the neighbors. All he had wanted to do was relive the previous night's wonder. The police were called and his parents sent a car to whisk him away before he became a ward of the state - revealing their shame. The second year Vincent had gone as a mummy, all wrapped in linen strips. Again, he was a hit, eliciting 'ooooos' and 'aaaahs' as he gathered up his candies. Last year Vincent had gone as a ghost, covered in a white sheet. Vincent had been invited by a neighbor to come and play some time, not realizing that he lived in seclusion next door. Vincent had often heard the children ouside and thought about how wonderful it would be to have friends to play with. Vincent had slipped out of the house and ran up to the kids, who ran from him and ridiculed him. Again he was moved. The name "Lumpyhead" still made his eyes brim with tears when he thought about it. This year Vincent was planning on putting green paint on and going as a Frankenstein, like he had seen on TV.
One more Week until Halloween. Aunt Pam and Uncle Carl had promised Vincent that if he obeyed all the rules and was a good boy, he could go out on Halloween. Uncle Carl had agreed to personally walk him around the block. His new aunt and uncle were nice enough people. They didn't hurt him or make him feel bad, but they didn't really pay too much attention to him, either. They had given Vincent books and small toys on his birthday, so he liked them just fine. As he peered down at TV from the top of the stairs, watching a Halloween special, He could barely contain himself. The week leading up to the big day was always nerve-wracking for the little boy.
Halloween Day. Vincent threw off his sheets and raced into the shower, reaching a splotchy, stubby, clawed hand out to turn on the tap. He sang Halloween songs he had heard from TV, and a few that he made up himself as he lathered and rinsed. Vincent was all chatter, making it hard for his aunt and uncle to ignore him. As the light outside faded and the hour grew late, his excitement was filled to bursting. Vincent ran upstairs and began applying his green makeup, blending and covering like a professional makeup artist. Tonight was the culmination of an entire year's worth of waiting - a lifetime for a child. There is a loud knock at the door as the first trick-or-treater arrives and Vincent scrambles upstairs, careful not to be seen as he peeks from the upper rail. A Fairy! Just like in his book! Vincent would like to be a fairy, but he wouldn't make a very good one. Monsters was what he felt more comfortable with.
Uncle Carl gets his flashlight and holds out his hand to Vincent. Upon feeling the strange little hand eagerly grab his, he shakes it off, making Vincent grab the other end of the flashlight instead. Vincent does an impatient dance, like when he holds in his wee too long and really has to go. Carl pulls down his own plastic mask to ensure his anonymity as he leads the eager little boy out the back door and down the porch stairs. They cut across an empty lot, so as not to reveal their point of origin as Vincent skips and sings, his candy bucket flopping wildly in his hand.