The wild boy escaped the freak show and now was in my shed. This was something that I did not expect and I did not know what to do about it. It meant that I was not alone here and now I had an extra responsibility that I did not ask for. All I knew is that I could not send this boy back to the evil circus director and force him to be part of a freak show. I had to take him into my own home, and give him the care and compassion that he deserved. This would be until I knew what to do with him.
The problem was that I was used to being alone. The only guest I ever had was Miss Sullivan and she never was a burden. You can say that I was not good at being with other people. This also was with children. I had no experience with children. Did I even have the patience to have a child around me? What if he was a brat? What if he was so wild that he could not learn how to live as a human? There were so many questions going through my head. This would be a challenge,
When the boy saw me approach him, he started screaming and hopping around. He threw what he could around and at times he was pulling his hair. Most people would be frightened of this behaviour and conclude that he was wild. They would think that he was dangerous. I did not see this. All I could see was a boy that was afraid. I could see a boy that was earlier kept in a cage and had no wish to return to that life. We had this in common. I would not be responsible for sending him back to the freak show.
I did not go closer to the boy. I sat outside. As I sat there I told him that he was welcome to stay here and I would not send him back to the freak show. When he was ready, he could come out. I would not do anything to harm him. There was no answer from him. At least he stopped screaming and jumping around. I did not know if my reaction was the right thing to do. Should I just not have hugged the boy and let him know that he was safe? Maybe that would be the worse thing to do. I think I was just as confused and afraid of what I should do.
Miss Sullivan found me sitting outside the shed and wondered why I was there. When I told her who was inside the shed, she told me that she thought I did the right thing. The boy must have been so afraid. He needed time to trust me. It meant that I needed to have patience and wait for the boy to come out. You would think that being alone all my life and with the simple way that I lived, I would have patience. To be honest, having patience was not one of my strong sides. It was wise that I followed Miss Sullivan's advice and let the boy decide.
There were a few possible outcomes. The boy could come out and give me a chance. If this was the case, I would have my hands full. It made no difference if I wanted this or not. It was what fate has decided. The boy could also escape. If this happened, it would not be my problem. This was a scenario that I did not wish for. If the boy escaped, I would be so worried about his fate and suspected that at some stage, he would be captured and back in the cage.
When Miss Sullivan left, I found some food and put the food in the doorway. The boy was still in the corner. His eyes looked so afraid and it was almost as if he was trembling. I told him that the food was for him. It was some ham sandwiches and a glass of milk. This must have been the best food that the boy experienced in a long time. It was not the animal food that he had when he was in the cage. I could see the boy staring at the food and then at me. I told him that I would leave the shed door open. He could come out when he wanted. This meant that I also reassured him that no harm will come to him.
I left the door open and found my guitar where I started playing some songs and singing a few songs. I admit that I was not the best singer, but I wanted to give the wild boy an experience that he never had. The only sound that he was used to was people jeering and shouting at him. They say the music has healing power. I could only hope that the music would have pleased the boy and that he would feel safe. Music would help give the boy some peace. It could show him that I was not a threat and that he could trust me.
This was one thing that the boy would find hard to do. How could he trust anyone after all that he went through? The only experience he had was being locked in a cage like some wild animal. The only contact with people were the ones that came to look at him in a cage. They did not care about him. They believed the story of a wild boy that was so dangerous that he had to be locked up. No one ever cared about him or wanted the best for him. He was just some cheap entertainment. So as I sang for the boy, I wondered if could I ever help him. Most likely he would escape from the shed when he thought that I was asleep. Who would blame him? He must have been so afraid.
It was now night and I found an extra blanket that I had. As I entered the shed, I could see that the boy ate the food. He was in the corner and asleep. I put a glass of milk and more sandwiches next to him. At the same time, I covered him with the blanket. I had to smile. He looked so peaceful as he slept. This boy was by no means a wild boy that was dangerous. He was a hurt boy that had been abused all his life. He was terrified. I looked at him and thought that I would not see him the next day. The boy was so afraid, that he would escape when I slept.
This made me doubt if I was doing the right thing. If the boy escaped, where would he go to? He could find another place to harm, and most likely the people there would be so afraid of a wild boy that they would harm him in some way. Even if the boy never met a human being, how would he survive? He would die from hunger and the cold.
Even if he did stay here, what would I do? I could not be his parent figure. I had no experience with children and up to now, I always have tried distancing myself from them. This boy would ruin the peaceful life that I made for myself. I liked being alone. A boy living here would give me extra responsibilities and force me to be social. I would be forced to be responsible for a very damaged boy. I had no clue what to do or how to help this boy.
It did occur to me that I should hand him back to the freak show. I felt ashamed when I thought about this. If I handed the boy over to the circus director, then I would be as guilty as that evil man. I would be condemning that boy to a life of humiliation, punishment and abuse. I had to do what I could with the boy. This meant offering him a safe refuge where we would feel safe and treated with respect and human. This would be a new experience for him.. and me.
When I woke up the next day, the wild boy was still there. He was not in the shed but was sitting some distance away from me by the cutting wood. I smiled at him and wished him a good morning. I did not want to scare the boy, so I kept my distance. I figured it would be best that the boy decided where he would sit.
I tried asking him his name as I could not call him “boy” all the time. He did not say a word but continued to look at every move that I made. It made my heart bleed that the boy was so afraid. I thought it would make things much easier if we could talk together. However, the boy did not say a word. He just sitting on the ground rocking himself back and forth as he looked at me.
I went to get him some breakfast and something to drink. I put the food and the drink down in front of him. The boy did not run when I did this, but he did put up his hands in a way that looked like he thought that I would hurt him. This defence position was sad to see. It would take some effort and time for him to trust anyone, and who could blame him for what he had to go through?
“I do not consider you a wild boy,” I told him, “ You are a boy that was abused and this should never have happened. I can understand that you are afraid and terrified that you will have to go back. I can assure you that I will not send you back to the freak show. I will do my best so that you will never be abused or hurt again. This also means you will not be locked up. While you are here, there is nothing to be afraid of.”
The was no reaction from the boy, except some tears running down his dirty cheeks. I kept on telling him that he would be safe. He was undernourished. He had long, dirty tangled hair. His skin was also so dirty. It was obvious that he did not have the proper food and I doubted that he ever had a haircut or even a bath. This was such a crime. Why did no one ever see how bad this abuse was? It seemed like everyone just had their head buried in the sand.
Days went by and the routine was the same. The boy sat at some distance from us but did not run away. I would feed him and give him some drink, He had no manners when he ate. I suppose this could only be expected. Jenny came every day to give me support. We would sit and talk. We also had chores to do, which seemed to interest the boy a lot. Otherwise, you could see that he enjoyed it when we sang. You could even see his body swaying as we sang.
At night, he would go into the shed and lay down in the corner. He did not mind when I came in and put a blanket over him. It was hard for me to sleep, as I was worried if I was doing the right thing. Remember that I had no experience in raising children and this boy was very damaged. I wanted to help him, but I had no clue how to do this. The only comfort I had was that I could not make his life worse than what he experienced in a cage.
One day, when Miss Sullivan was visiting, the boy suddenly stood at the door of the cottage. I was a bit shocked that he had found enough courage to finally come into my home. I invited him in and for a while, he just stood there. The boy finally came in slowly and sat next to Miss Sullivan. He did not say a word and just looked at me as I was cooking some food. This was hard to do as I was so happy that the boy finally trusted us enough to come into the cottage. He must have felt very safe around Miss Sullivan as he nearly clung to her.
We ate dinner which was meat, vegetables and potatoes. The boy still ate with his fingers. Miss Sullivan smiled at it and told me that now that he is starting to trust us, we must slowly start to teach him what it means to be a boy. She was right. If the boy was to survive in the world, he would need to know manners and proper etiquette. He needed a bath and a haircut. The was so much that we would have to do. It seemed so overwhelming. I had to remind myself that it would be just as overwhelming to the boy.
Miss Sullivan went home. I explained to the boy that she did not live here but would be back again. I expected the boy to follow Miss Sullivan home, but he just remained in his chair. I sang some songs as I tidied up and put out a cot for him. When I told him that he could sleep on the cot, he quickly laid on the cot and was ready to sleep.
As I told him a bedtime story, I had to smile. How could anyone think this boy was wild?
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