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WHERE IS MICHAEL story

Story ID:4208
Written by:Richard Laurent. Provencher (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:Retired
Story type:Fiction
Location:Truro Nova Scotia Canada
Year:2008
Person:Rihard & Esther Provencher
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A mother's voice rang loudly in the stillness of a warm summer afternoon.

"Michael! Michael!

Clouds like large fluffy marshmallows were startled by her shrill screams.

On the ground two quick legs were running in the opposite direction of mom’s calling.

"Michael!"

His legs didn't slow up; they went faster, then hid behind a closed up refreshment stand. Panting the boy stuffed chocolates into his face, losing one in the process. He peeked around the corner to see what the problem was.

Michael figured he better see what his mother wanted.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Nowhere," he grinned.

So, why are you hiding behind the building? Are you doing something I should know about? Like eating sweets?

He didn't want her to see the answer in his face, so he looked at his feet.

"Please don't do it anymore," she said. “They’re for the picnic. Come when I call you,” she added.

As soon as her back was turned, Michael headed for the food, poking his friend Paul on the way and tripping Peter before falling down himself.

His new pants, he had insisted on wearing, promising to be very careful if he could, now looked well used, carrying grass stains like a banner.

Absolutely everyone came to the family picnic at Victoria Park in Truro, children and adults alike. They knew there was lots of room to walk or run or play, sit or eat, whatever they preferred.

"Where's the food?" children began to ask, anxious for the picnic to begin.”

"Soon!” one adult answered.

Michael didn't really care, as he chowed down peanut butter sandwiches he snuck from one of the tables. He dropped one, not seeing it snatched quickly by something from under the table. But, he did hear a strange sound.

"Michael!" was his mother's call for him.

I suppose I should go to the picnic, no fun there though only boring games, nothing I want to do.

He didn't bother answering his mother yet, she would call again later.

Michael crawled behind another picnic table, watching for anyone. His mouth drooled for more treats.

His hand crept towards the fudge cookies, aah got one, and no one saw him. He should get another, might as well make it three.

As he relaxed behind the refreshment stand he ate two, then noticed one missing. Where did it go, he wondered?

Good thing he missed hearing the growl as the third cookie was dragged under the building. When he finally decided to return, mom was waiting.

“You sit at this table until it’s time to eat, in fifteen minutes!” she demanded, in a voice, heard across the playground. Waiting for fifteen minutes seemed more like an hour. Finally his time was up.

"They're looking for boys to sign-up for the three-legged race," mom said.

"I'll go," Michael answered. He just wanted to get away from here. He certainly wasn't going to play any games. They were silly and everyone laughed at you.

Soon, he was down by the food table once more. This time he moved like a caterpillar, creeping on hands and knees.

His hand reached up, success! Chips! Might as well get lots, he thought. After licking his lips, Michael returned to the refreshment stand.

This time one large chip fell to the ground.

Then he heard "Aaar!" and "Ruur!" He wondered where the sound was coming from. After scratching his head he looked around then peered under the building.

Michael could hear something moving. Yes the sounds definitely were coming from the shadows. "Aaar! Ruur!”

Weird sounds, really scary sounds, he thought. I don't think I'll stick around here. Must be time for more food anyway, wasn't it?

"Mom, can we eat now?"

"In a minute, don't go away. I'll be calling you soon.”

But Michael didn't want to wait even one minute. He decided to go back to the food table. On the way he pulled up the string used to mark the races, just to make it difficult. Ha. Ha.

He broke Annie and Jerry's balloon. When they cried he laughed. This sure was fun.

When he finally got to the table, he filled both hands then headed back to his hideout. He had forgotten about the noises, eating cake and pocketing fudge and cookies being more important right now.

As he got closer, he heard, "Aaar! Ruur!" Those strange sounds were trying to gross him out. What was going on anyways?

He moved forward slowly, suddenly realizing his treats were ruined. In his nervousness they ended up getting all mashed together.

But, he couldn't just leave and not find out what it was, could he? Maybe he should run as fast as he could around the corner and surprise whatever was there.

Ready...Set. His feet were really motoring. His t-shirt was blowing like a sail. He was moving like an out-of-control locomotive. Around the corner he came face to face with a....what was it?

One of the ugliest things he had ever seen stood in front of him, a giant cookie, with gleaming teeth, a peanut butter sandwich ground up between them and a long snaky tongue reaching towards him.

Another creature, looking like a chocolate fudge monster, moved towards him. This couldn't be happening. He must be dreaming.

They began making those strange noises again, “Aaah! Ruur! Aaah! Ruur!” Why were they angry with him? Was it because he snuck those goodies from the picnic tables? They kept coming.

"Okay. I promise, I won't do that anymore. Please don't hurt me. I'll be good. Honest."

He ran as quickly as he could to his mom. "Were you calling me?" he asked, looking nervously over his shoulder.

* * *

© Richard & Esther Provencher 2008


Co-authors Richard and Esther Provencher invite you to view their newest novel SOMEONE’S SON written during Richard’s recovery from a stroke, which gob-smacked him in 1999. It is a Young Adult novel dealing with a family crisis. http://www.synergebooks.com/ebook_someonesson.html