AJ
Marcus And His Mysterious Travels
The Window Escape
There once was a boy named Marcus Hall, who never went out his bedroom door. He slept there, he ate there, and he lived his whole life in his bedroom. You may be wondering how this little boy of twelve was able to live in his bedroom without the necessities in life, like food or a bathroom and in truth he didn’t. Every morning and every night his caring mother would bring him food to eat and water to drink and place it through a small hole Marcus had carved into his door. She loved him very much and hoped one day he would finally come out of his bedroom but until then she continued to care for him as any normal mother would.
As for a bathroom, no one really knows how he survived without one. And for the other necessities, Marcus was content to live without them. However his father and mother insisted on an education, but Marcus declared he would not go to school. So each month teachers from the local school would come up to his room quiz him on the subjects they thought a young man should know. Marcus was especially good at geography and this confounded his teachers. How could a boy that supposedly never left his room know so much about the places outside it! And Marcus certainly did. He knew every state, country, continent and island. He could name every stream, river, lake and ocean ever discovered and did so when anyone was willing to listen. The mystery of Marcus and his knowledge was like a swarm of bees inside the teacher’s heads. Buzzing around until their minds exploded with annoyance. They just had to find out! So, one month when the teachers were gathered in the living room below Marcus’s bedroom waiting for Marcus to call them up to quiz him, they decided to ask. One by one they marched up the wooden stairs toward the boy’s room. Halfway up the stairs though the teachers and Marcus’s parents saw a flash of white coming from stairway window. A white sheet, knotted into a crude rope was swinging back and forth across the outside of the glass. “How odd!” Mrs. Farace—a history teacher with an unpleasantly shrill voice—exclaimed as they watched the sheet-rope with wide eyes. So quick --you would have missed to if you blinked—a small figure scaled down the rope, his face covered with a black scarf. Mrs. Hall—who had been watching the whole scene with wide eyes—stumbled back in shock as the figure climbed down the side of her house. “Oh my!” she squealed, tripping halfway down the stairs before Mr. Hall caught her. The figure landed softly on the ground and started walking towards the train station, never looking back. “What if he did something to Marcus!” Mrs. Hall squealed again and shot up the stairs, knocking down half the teachers in the process. After collecting them selves off the floor the group of teachers and Mr. Hall followed her toward Marcus’s room. They found her pushing all her weight against the door in a attempt to budge it open with no success. “Allow me, miss.” Coach Hector—a strong, beefy looking man who had only come today because he was promised donuts afterward—stepped up toward the door and gave a great heave. With the sound like nails on a chalk board the door moved an inch. “Here let me help!” Mr. Hall offered and stepped up with Coach Hector. Nothing happened. Soon every single teacher was pushing against the door. Even Ms. Rangel—who was a ninety-seven year old biology teacher—was using all her strength against the door. Slowly but surely the door started to open revealed more and more of Marcus’s room. The first thing any of them noticed was how clean the room was for a boy’s bedroom. Not even a gram of dust! “Well I’ll be!” Mr. Howard—the scrawny geography teacher who was so intent on finding out Marcus’s secret—exclaimed as he viewed the walls of the boy’s room. Dozens of maps hung loosely by nails on his walls, giving the room an odd wallpaper. One big map on his ceiling was covered in red thump taks, so much that it was hard to see the map itself. The last thing the group saw before the door collapsed beneath their weight and hurled them into Marcus’s empty room was a white sheet, knotted into a long rope that hung from Marcus’s bedroom window.
Marcus had never gone out his bedroom door. The window on the other hand was an entirely different matter.
The End.
