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Always Digging For Something More
Charles hated being inside. His house was big, of course, and there were lots of rooms to play in, but he never bothered. While the place was certainly huge, it was empty. The peeling wallpaper and flickering lights described the sadness that was all around it. That might be why Charles spends most of his time outside, staying away from all the madness.
His father spends a lot of time in his office, which he’s never allowed to go into. Charles won’t see him for hours and hours on end. He doesn’t really mind where Charles goes or plays, and he likes to explore. So he does. He even plays fetch with the dog his mother tried so hard to adopt, begging her husband to keep. Charles’ father was a stubborn man, but she managed to convince him about this. It was the only thing, though. He really wishes she didn’t leave them. They don’t talk about her anymore.
One day, when the days weren’t quite like the other and boredom struck Charles, like the clock every day at noon. He would go outside and play with his poor dog. She never got attention after the incident.
Charles took out his toy shovels and buckets, finding it so much fun to dig. He could try to go to China, going deep underneath the world to escape. But he would never escape the life he was living, not really.
The more he dug, the more fun would surface inside him. Today he was working in a totally new spot, unfamiliar to him. His arms would be weak and his hands sore from all the work he’d been doing. Finally, when he was about to be done, his father called him to dinner.
He sat at the table, which was quite lonely with only two people. His plate consisted of a big slab of beef, that’s all. That’s all what him and his father had every night, no side dishes, just meat. His father said the protein was good for him, that it would make him stronger. Charles’ father sat down at the table and stared at him as he took his first bite of the meat. He gagged, spitting the food back out into his napkin.
“It tastes spoiled!”
Charles’ father looks at him for a while, as if examining or deciding something. He finally moves and takes a bite of his own meat and spits it out. All he says is a simple, “You’re right” before taking both of their plates and throwing them into the trash. Charles didn’t point out how it was their best fine china.
“Father, may I go back outside and play?” Charles was basically jumping out of his seat, dying to be excused. His digging wasn’t quite finished.
For a moment, Charles thought his father wouldn’t allow it by the look he was giving. After a long silence, he mumbles. “Hurry, it’s almost dark outside.”
Sometimes Charles imagines that he’s digging for treasure, that he’s a pirate and X marks the spot right where he digs. His father claims he watches too many movies.
The dog happily bounded after him wherever he went, like they were playing follow the leader. Sometimes she even helped him.
This was the day Charles finally found his treasure. His shovel struck something hard. He scrambled onto his hands and knees, digging with his fingers. At last, he grips onto something and pulls, coming up with a bone, probably just a remainder of one of the dog’s snacks. Charles was disappointed. He thought it was going to be something cool, like a time capsule or a chest. He just whistled his dog over and held the bone above his dog’s head.
“Fetch, girl!” He yelled, before throwing the thing away from him with all his power. The dog gleefully followed pursuit, chasing after it, sprinting.
Charles decided to work just a little more, wanting to see if he found anything else. It wasn’t hard, finding something seconds later. It was underneath the last thing he found, another bone. He inspected it, realizing how it was shorter than the last one. He kept going, another one after that. What was going on with his dog? It must just be an instinct to bury all of her things at one spot.
He shortly gave up after that, returning all the dirt where it belonged, on top of the huge hole he had made.
And if Charles didn’t understand the fact that his mother didn’t willingly leave him, or that the bones and meat might have been from something other than beef, well his father was fine with that.
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