Candies and Sticks

Part One

[Cute little Riley's pic on the right!

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PART ONE

For some people, abandoned parks held more meaning compared to those lively, crowded, and well… not deserted ones.

I was one of those people. Because for one, that kind of place was where I met my first friend. Two, and sadly, that was where it ended as well.

I could still remember every single detail of those days. It’s not like I could forget them anyway, especially when the said park was just, more or less, a hundred steps away from where I lived.

I was barely five years old back then, and everything was going just like in any normal day. Wake up every morning, dress up, eat breakfast with the family, and then go out so I could play.

I was so excited, even if I was just always playing by myself. Besides, who would want to dress up dolls with me, aside from the girls? And I sure didn’t want those… talking Jigglypuffs, getting a hold of my very precious collection. I mean, I begged so much, cried rivers even, just so my parents would buy them for me. So no, not a chance in a million years, you squeaky, overly perfumed and pinked… talking Jigglypuffs!

I was playing happily in front of our house, with all my Mum’s flowers surrounding me. I was even humming a tune of a song my older brother kept listening for days. Its lyrics went along the lines of, ‘She said he's so sweet, I wanna lick the wrapper…’ as I formed a plot in my head on what story I would make my toys perform.

You see, I was more than contented with just myself. I liked being alone, allow myself to think freely – if I wasn’t reading a new book Daddy bought for me, that was – instead of hanging out with others who all seemed to care about were either robots, cars and all other junks, or lip-gloss, bows and all another set of junks. Yes, I dressed up dolls, but that didn’t make me a cross-dresser, and definitely not a girl. Ew.

My life was so peaceful, until a kid from another town who was just visiting their relatives in this town with his family, changed that.

Gregory Johnson. Just his name alone already screamed bully. And bully me he did.

Before I could do something to save my toys, like shout for my brother’s name since our parents had already gone off to work, Gregory had already snatched them. I though he was just going to look at them, thinking he was interested and wanted to play with me. But that little bubble of hope of finally having a playmate burst when he threw them down the grass and stomped on them. Until their limbs were no longer connected to their bodies, and their hairs and dresses were ruined to no good.

I stood there shocked, almost like an idiot as I watched Gregory walk away. He was muttering something like, “Be thankful you have a pretty face, or else…” but I was too stunned to hear the rest of it, much less comprehend what he meant. When I finally snapped out of my stupor, he was gone.

As I looked down at my collection, which was now completely dirtied, that was when my tears fell. It was like my whole body was shaking, not of fury, but of sadness that the things I deeply cared for were now… literally in bits and pieces.

I would’ve ran back inside our house to Nicky and tell him what happened like what a five-year old would do, but I knew better than that. He would just chase after Gregory and make him pay hell for what he did. Instead, I ran. I ran as far as my short, thin legs could go. I was a very sad excuse for a boy, aside from the fact that I looked prettier than girls did my age in our neighborhood – my Mum’s words. Because after, more or less, a hundred steps, my lungs already felt like they were going to burst.