I've left a lot up to the reader, but that's how I wanted it to be, a mysterious structure kind'a thing! Haha. The Gift.
I looked up out of the small slit in the cabin as the dawn drifted in through. I noticed we’d been moved from the cabin and were on the move, in a box. It was caving in around and the only settling thought that we hadn’t been buried alive was that small slit of light. Breathing seemed difficult, but nothing I couldn’t put up with. I turned to little Freddy, crawled up in the corner. He was crying, but silently. A single tear dripped down his face running across his baby-like cheeks and dripping on to the wooden planks below us.
“Freddy, come on, stay lively,” I whispered; I didn’t want the others to hear. Freddy didn’t reply, he merely started to rock in the same position. I changed tactic and decided to sit by him, comfort him. I began thinking about the unfolded events, these strange men that had taken us. All we knew was that they referred to us as: “The Gift”; a gift to whom? I pondered on the thought momentarily before pushing it from my mind. Now wasn’t the time to worry about those sorts of things. I assumed we were being transported in some kind of truck, and by the looks of it we’d come out to the middle of nowhere.
“Freddy-” I whispered again, giving him a gentle nudge.
He whimpered and muttered, “What do you want, James?”
“I got an idea. We can get out’a here, you just got’a follow my lead, okay?”
“Mom wouldn’t want us to try nothing stupid, James. She’d just want us to stay safe, you’re gon’a get us into trouble with your plan,” he replied, objectively.
“No, I won’t. I’d rather we tried than ended up any further in these nutter’s hands.”
“James, you’re only eleven. I’m four, how can we take on-”
“Oi,” boomed someone from the front of the pick-up truck. “Quiet up, we don’t want you two chatting away, we’re trying to listen to the radio!”
I cursed. Freddy hit me automatically. We’d always been told not to swear back at home and Freddy seemed to feel the need to enforce it. I tried to think, but couldn’t get past much more than a wild speculation of an escape plan. I laughed under my breath, maybe that’s all we needed: A wild escape plan, the last thing they’d expect.
“Right, Freddy, make some noise!” I yelled.
We both started ranting and banging on the wood making sure we were known. The pick-up truck didn’t slow, though. The men were just getting angrier and angrier, slamming their fists onto the other side of the wooden planks. One impact made the wood bolt back and hit me in the nose. I shot to the floor onto my back and whaled at the pain in my nose at it began to bleed. It was only a drip, I told myself, just a drip.
There was a loud boom from outside and Freddy had ceased shouting. I sat up confused, ignoring my bleeding nose and letting the blood trickle onto my dirty shirt. There was another boom. The men were no longer banging, and silence took its place. It spread around us like a deathly shadow and I tensed up as a shiver trailed down my spine. A cracking noise broke the silence and a plank was ripped from the top of the enclosed box. Freddy screamed as a bright stream of bright white light burned through the opening and stained my eyes. As the light slowly drained away, and Freddy settled quickly, we both perched eager to see who would be there and ready to pounce if necessary. It revealed a frail figure of an old man, but with a strong, square jaw. In his right hand was a double-barrel shotgun, his finger floating over the trigger, but the gun pointed up in the air.
“W-who are… you?” I managed to stutter.
A smile grew across his face as he said cheerily, “Well, ain’t you curious, son. I’m a farmer, but you can call me Mr. Nickels. Wanna jump out of there, eh?”
He let out his hand and I grabbed it, finally free.
