A note from the author: This is my first story and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. I started it when I was about 6 and only just decided to type it out. There are some violent scenes and language, just as a warning. Thanks, and enjoy :D


Confuzzeld

Confuzzeld. I've been told before that it's not a word. The proper word would be confused, or puzzled, but for me I need a mixture. I love the way that confused is so round and circular, a sphere. Confused pulses and glows, blushing pink on the sides. Confused is always changing, not sure what to decide on. But then there's puzzled. Words with z have sharp pointy ends. Or just slender stalks with tips. Puzzled is a spike, tall and strong, yet crooked at the top, as if to say, "BUT" loud and clear. Puzzled is blue and green, striped because it has decided that it likes both colors. I can't decide what I like better, puzzled or confused, so I have to change it to be both. Puzzlefuse is a circle and triangle squished together, and doesn't sound right, not meaning the same as either of them. Confuzzeld, on the other hand, is a sphere of light, glowing brightly in the dim light. Confuzzled has little spikes protruding outwards from the sphere, begging to be let out and almost bursting the bubble. Confuzzeld describes both puzzled and confused at the same time, so I will use that word right now.

I am confuzzeld.

I'm only four years old, I know that because it says on the sign. There's a star with lots of spikes-not just five, I counted(Joe says I'm very intelligent because I know big words like protruding and can count, but can't everyone?)-and my name is Mohegan or Molly or Mosama or Moheger. I'm not really sure because nobody tells me my name much, but since I can't pronounce (this is another really big word) it right I say Mo.

I stay inside a dirty brown room with red blotches on it. There are also white and yellow blotches. I cry a lot because I'm hungry often and cold, but not because I wet myself. I know to say urinate because it's rude to say peeā€¦ oopsies. I might get smacked again. I have learned how to urinate in the corner, so I don't make a mess.

Today however, I'm not in the dirty brown room. The door to it was left open so I left it for the first time. I find lot's of dirty rooms. Wow, the world has more than one dirty room? I didn't know that. Well, I should have. Where else does Joe go when he leaves my box? I explore more and more until I get to a door that leads to the biggest place. I'm in a weird box with a blue and white ceiling- I think the white things are called clouds or puffer fish. This box isn't dirty, it's cold, and the floor is green and soft. I can't see any walls, but there isn't any red spots. Oh, wait, there is. I run over to the red thing to see if it's different too, and it is. It's fun to walk fast because then I can hear a whoosh sound in my ears. I was correct, the red thing IS different. This isn't ugly like the old splotch, it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. It's got soft round things sticking out of it, curling a bit, with yellow things in the middle. It has 5 round thingy's. I think that it's a flower. I want to take it with me, this red flowery thing, to make my home nicer, but I can't get it out. I yank harder and harder, but it won't move. I yank one last time, then it comes out. Rocks spray my face and sting my eyes as I fall back on the green floor. This time it's not soft it's hard and hurts my back. Tears rush to my eyes and a bawl when I see the flower. It's now muddy and brown and there are only 2 round things, not 5.

I cry and cry and cy and cry all day until the sky get's dark. That's weird. In my box the sky get's dark very quick and there is no gradual change. Joe flips the switch and it's suddenly dark or bright. Usually it's dark because he doesn't come often. This is the weirdest box I've ever seen. I curl up on the green thing, (why is it soft again?) and close my eyes. What is happening to me?

When I open my eyes again, I'm in the dirty box again, and that makes me sad. The big box was nicer and smelled better. Now that I think about it, this box smells horrible, rusty and bad. For an instant I feel nothing, but then fingers are digging into my arms and scratching my face. A voice shouts in my ear. I shrink back against the wall. Did Joe hear me say pee? Will he smack me? Sharp nails dig into my scalp and leave red lines on my cheeks. Pain is thrust through my whole body when he takes out the whip. Joe takes out the whip often. I'm scared of it, but it's just normal and it's my fault that he does it. I shouldn't have done anything bad. More red liquid splatters the walls. Just the day before yesterday the sticky scarlet stuff created a pool nest to my feet. That was the worst time. But I'm good I think, so lot's of bad kids must go through it even more often then I, and maybe it's worse for them. The black whip straightens and my face reflects of the little gold bits. My eyes are round and wider then last time. I wonder, will it be harder this time? I see only one last flash of green before the whip curls in the air and is bought down on my back. Usually I don't squeal, it's worse when I do that, but this time I can't help it. After last time I learned that I should never ever make a peep or I'll get in really big trouble, so I hold my breath, but this time I lose control like never before. A bloodcurdling scream is let loose, from me I think, and I thrash about. Fire burns through my spin and slaps my face like it's jello. The whip hits me over and over, each time I tell myself I won't scream, but every time I yell in pain, moaning in agony as the sharp metal tip digs into my back and neck. Joe grunts as he remains standing, watching me with his cold black eyes. He frightens me, but I know that it's for the better. Besides, I think to myself, others have crueler harsher parents, Joe is a good guy. Some people die because of them. A few scars won't hurt. But they do hurt, and I can't even bring myself to breath anymore, much less cry. Finally he takes back the whip. Twenty-seven lashes. That's a lot. I relax slightly, and make myself take in short shallow breaths. He's going to go away now. He's going to go away now. But he doesn't. No matter how many times I chant this in my mind, he doesn't move. Then he reaches into his pocket and brings something out. Maybe it's candy. He gave me candy once before. It tasted good, but then my stomach started hurting and I started coughing up blood. I think that it was old candy or something. He didn't poison it or anything, but he did seem a little upset afterwards when I got well. I wonder why. Maybe he meant to give me not-so-good candy. It's not. It long and pointy, and has a shiny silver surface. It's edges are ragged. Slowly he raises it up, a dangerous glint in his eyes, he whirls it in the air and brings it down quick. Something it sticking out of my nose and cheek. It makes me feel woozy and spots dance before my eyes. I can't handle the pain any longer and drop to my knees, falling flat on my face, digging the metal in deeper. The pool of blood it bigger this time, I think to myself, before finally passing out and going back to sleep.

I'm not quite sure whether that made any sense or not but I hope you get the point- Mo has an extremely bad veiw of the world at this young age. There is a little box at the bottom of the page. Below that there is a button that says review (hint hint hint hint)