Day 106 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character making a home in an unexpected place.
Shannon: “Doug, Doug, wake up,” I gradually got louder as I continued to call his name. I wasn’t complete sure it was actually him and not a homeless person, but he would be easier to deal with.
“Oh no,” he turned over and I was happy to see the familiar face looking up at me. “What time is it? Am I late,” he questioned in a panic, quickly hiding his sleeping bag and backpack under a tarp. He breathed a sigh of relief when he looked at his phone. “Are you always here this early?”
“When they need me, and since I’m intern and it’s cheap labor, they tend to need me a lot. What are you doing sleeping in the old bear enclosure? After all the years you’ve worked here, you think somebody could have given you a nicer place to stay for the night,” I felt for him.
He shook his head, “They don’t know I’m living here.”
“Living here,” my jaw dropped, “How long?”
He looked embarrassed, “A month,” he eventually answered to fill the silence.
“No one has caught you yet?”
He smiled, clearly happy to hear that was first reaction. “I had my eye on this place for a while. Nobody has touched it for years, and the den is secluded enough to get away with it, but I’m guessing you’re here for a reason,” he gave a sad smirk, waiting for the bad news.
“They’re getting a new black bear,” I confirmed his suspicion. “But you don’t need this place, do you,” I pried, worried about him.
He shrugged, “My daughter is sick,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to save money and send it to her, but I don’t want to be bother to anyone,” he shook his head, “Still, I would do anything for her,” he explained. “Please don’t tell anyone I was living here. I don’t think they’d be very happy with me. I’ll clear my stuff out right away.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I agreed to keep his secret, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tell them about his daughter. “Do you need a place to stay?”
“No, no. I’ll figure it out,” he smiled.
Erin: “How come we never hang out at your house,” was the scariest words that I ever heard.
Truth was we did hang out at my house, a lot. My mother not only worked at the children’s museum. We lived there. My room was the life-sized doll house and my mother’s was the house-boat exhibit. Our personal bathroom was the “out of order” handicap stall.
We got the leftovers from the cafeteria, and their was never a shortage of fun. We just couldn’t tell people about our wonderland, because if they knew we might lose it.
Where does your character call home?