Soundly Stopped

As mentioned, I was crying as I was walked through the holiday crowd. I had tried to steal a toy and now, captured, and paraded as a thief, I was walked back to the stall to face the owner of the item. I felt deeply ashamed. I had little doubt that the police would be waiting to talk with me. I would be put in handcuffs, placed into a police vehicle, in front of the disapproving stares of the general public. I imagined they would shake their heads sadly at me. Any of the gathered crowd observing this and  knowing who I was, would not hesitate to find the nearest telephone box and call  my parents (thank goodness mobile phones had not been invented yet). They would no doubt thrillingly tell them their son had been arrested. Arrested and taken to the nearest police station to await , not only my father, but a judge and jury (Even though I was young, I was informed). I was dreading the outcome. Do they send people my age to prison? Would I be thrown into a cell and left to await meagre meals and exercise yards (Okay, even if I was informed, ill-informed by a few very bad B movies from America).

I was walked back to the stall and there was the seller, looking at the approaching captor of this crying child, holding aloft the recovered toy. I was terrified. I was thrust before the seller and he looked at my captor. He nodded seriously. “Another one?” he stared at me. I shrunk where I stood. I felt incredibly vulnerable. “Yeah.” Boomed my rapid silent catcher. He passed the windmill to the seller. “Do you want me to call the police?” He boomed again. Several people passing turned to look at me pityingly. “Why?” asked the seller. “We can just put him in the box with the others.”

Suddenly I stopped crying. I blanched. I thought perhaps I had misheard him. ‘Put him in the box’? What was he talking about? I looked up at the seller nervously. He was leering at me. “He won’t last long in there”. He continued staring at me.  The giant behind me laughed deeply. I whipped my head around. And looked at his stomach. I craned my restricted head up and looked at his chest. He was laughing deeply. He was still holding my neck and as he laughed it felt as though parts of my neck were being crushed. ‘Yeah”, he said slowly. “Let’s put him in the box and see how long he lasts’. He said unpleasantly. Now I was really terrified. What was it the men intended? What was the box I was going to be thrown into? Why wouldn’t I last very long? What was in this ‘box’? I started to wish there was a police officer close by. Now I was really, truly wanting to throw myself on the mercy of the law. Even if it did mean later, dealing with my father.

(Continued tomorrow)