Inkwell 2018-2019

like that, more steadily sombre than he would have preferred. The shelf was out of his reach, and as if the challenge could not stand on its own, Mrs. Scott’s eyes were watching him. They watched him clench his fist and shake his hand and widen his eyes and look at the ground as if he were a criminal, a murderer, a crazy man too dangerous to be left alone, even in a cage. And, even worse, her eyes watched The Shelf . They were glued to it! Unmoving eyes, perfectly focused on two subjects, like the perfectly specific images security cameras were meant to capture. Just before he had been thrown and locked in this cage, every inch of the room seemed to be his, every corner explored, every piece of dust uncovered from the crevices of tiny toys and from forgotten corners. But now... A cage ? The boy questioned his own thinking. He looked above him. Bait! He almost pointed to the treasure dangling above his head, but instead clenched his fist and shook it, just as he had seen angered heroes do in movies and cartoons. Up, up! The treasure, The Shelf , was so far above his head, but maybe, just maybe, not so far out of reach as despair had taught him a moment ago. If only, if maybe he could touch it, see what was inside, take it for himself! If only she would look away, if only some kid could break their leg and be sent to the nurses office, if only Mrs. Scott turned her dirty glare away from him and his shelf! But nothing and nothing and nothing, no child tripped one angle off from the usual, no child bled an extra pint, no child wandered off unnoticed… Raphael jumped and slammed both of his feet onto the ground. Stop! he thought, but he didn’t know what he wanted to stop. Then, he stretched his fingers, as far as they could be stretched, and hovered on his toes, his very tippitoes, and jumped. It fell.

The Off-Limits Shelf By Viola Vinatzer

Reaching out for the shelf above him, Raphael stretched his fingers as long as they could be stretched and hovered on his toes, on his very tippitoes, to the highest they could go. “Stop! You know not to touch the Off-Limits Shelf, Raphael. You know what happens when you touch the Off-Limits shelf, right children?”, “Yes, Mrs. Scott.”, “Good. It’s time for recess. And Raphael, go to the time-out-corner.”, “But-”, “No ‘buts’ Raphael.”, “Yes, Mrs. Scott.” He made his way to the time-out-corner. As he approached it, he stopped, and then he stared. It was there, fixed just between the two walls which made up the corner- The Off-Limits shelf. Everything around it paled in comparison: the toy trucks scattered along the fuzzy blue carpet, the wooden building blocks with all of the different colored letters, the plastic animals textured with hundreds of little indents… To the shelf, they paled, and every second the boy turned his head to the shelf, they paled and paled more, until they were chalk-white. All of the other little children played right outside the window, where green grass spread through little hills (the mountains of the playground), and mulch sprayed out from many pairs of feet, making the island bigger and bigger across the green ocean. Every day, he played on the brown island in the middle of the green ocean, tumbling in mulch, falling in puddles of water, getting grass stains on all of his clothes, tripping and scraping his knees, over and over until his entire body seemed to bleed. Fun! He thought, before his heart retreated into a slow-paced beat, before he, again, remembered. Beat, beat, beat, faster! Raphael hoped for his heart. He was sad when his heart slowed, but he was happy again when it sped up. The shelf, he realized, the shelf is here! And his heart raced ahead just as he had hoped. The shelf, directly above his head and body, floated there like a cloud, so big and close by, so touchable, so fun and fluffy, but still… So far away. Beat, beat, beat, faster! Raphael hoped for his heart. He was sad when his heart slowed, but he was happy again when it sped up. The shelf, he realized, the shelf is here! And his heart raced ahead just as he had hoped. The shelf, directly above his head and body, floated there like a cloud, so big and close by, so touchable, so fun and fluffy, but still… So far away. Pound, Pound, Pound, now his heart pounded

Everything in the room turned dead white.

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