Kevin grew tired of his books so he began to draw idly on a blank sheet of his exercise book. He first drew a circle, then put in smaller circles for eyes, nose and mouth. The face looked pitiably meager, so he drew in two loops for ears and spikes for hair…
This is a story about a boy, not just any boy but a boy, a boy called Kevin who for some reason started drawing instead of reading and it brought much more to him than he would have ever expected.
Kevin was an introvert, one who loved books and what not but as we all know, one day some of us just get tired. A new hobby surfaced as countless pieces of paper, including that of the one he just drew, now “stared” back at him, as if begging him to draw more.
Before I continue, this is a story that I have chosen to write because it reflects my time as a child. Before you start to roll your eyes and look away, read on. It’s worth your time.
It was often cold in
Being an introvert, he had friends that others couldn’t see, and feelings he could not express. So there was his refuge, as it allowed him to articulate, to speak with his hands.
Kevin Proctor started drawing, and drawing, and drawing. The pieces of papers beautified by his newly discovered talent were images that were non-representational, those that others could never imagine. His first piece of art, Kitty, was his prized possession; one that he felt would comfort him. He hoped desperately, that one day, it might come alive.
Before you think I’m crazy and think that this story does not make sense at all, think twice. This truly is the greatest story ever told. At least, it is to me for this is a story about, like I said, not just any other boy.
Bedtime was at 10pm; always 10pm. Kevin’s parents were fans of the English language. Writers who often wrote most of their books together and hence needed their time for writing. There was to be no drawing, or even reading for the matter. It was time to sleep, and Kevin could argue less about that stringent routine. So sleep he did.
You know how sometimes, when you do things or when you dream things, you know when its real, and you know when its not?
His dreams continued, night after night, for years. Sleeping seemed a hobby too if I might say, for kitty was now “truly alive”. To Kitty, he spoke a lot which was really rare since he was after all an introvert. What stunned his parents was how much he was beginning to say at the dinner table since that very first dream.
Kevin was becoming sociable, throwing his old self behind. It was rejuvenation.
All things come to an end. Don’t blame me I have got to end the story.
On the night of his birthday, Kevin felt something coming. It was the coming of age. And with that, he knew the dream was about to end. He knew Kitty, would never visit his dreams again.
This is a story about a boy, not just any boy but a boy called Kevin Proctor, A boy that realized that he could not be that quiet boy in the corner, a boy that realized although Kitty was not real, his change was.
He knew it was a dream, every single bit of it, but right now – right now was pure bliss, as might never come his way again, so with a menacing whoop Kevin performed another somersault on his bed and laughed ferociously to see Kitty leap out into the garden in alarm at the unaccustomed sight.
