The Runaway
a picture prompted story
Cheryl drafted the text to Harold. She was worried about her son, Mathew. Was it her fault he ran away? The letter would include directions for where to look. Drawings would be needed to help Harold find him—pictures of the old abandoned castle where she suspected their son might go.
Finding those pictures was difficult. She had to go to the library, which contained hundreds of books on the castle’s history. Climbing up the spiral staircase to glance at these shelves for the books she needed was tedious; there were hundreds of books. Once found, she had to find a way to retrieve them so that she could sketch the area where her husband needed to look. Time was of the essence. The directions were the easy part. Her husband could follow a map. That area had no cell signal, so she knew he would be out of communication range once the text was sent.
Mathew’s cat strolled by as she drew the pictures Harold would need. She couldn’t understand 
how their son could leave his cat behind. She drew fast, not bothering to eat or put on her shoes. She stopped periodically to look out at the lake outside the window. It calmed her down so she could complete her task.
She was not the one to go on the hunt; she needed to be home in case he returned.
Cheryl finished drawing the castle’s outside and inside based on the descriptions in the books she found, scanned her drawings, completed her text with directions to the castle and where their son might hide, and sent them to her husband. It took her phone over a minute to change from ‘Delivered’ to ‘Read.’ She got a hugging emoji ? back. It was all up to Harold now.
———–
Mathew was distraught. Why couldn’t his mother ever listen to his side of the story? It wasn’t his fault that he got in trouble with the principal. He was just trying to stop the fight, not engage in it. Besides, her honor was being defended by his friend Jack. But she didn’t even want to hear what he had to say. So he decided to run away. It would serve her right to worry about him for a change. He knew his mother had issues. She was suffering from some sort of mental problem, which was why she always took the medicine her doctor prescribed. But that was no excuse for taking it out on him. He learned to put up with all of the taunts from other kids. His friend Jack was the only one who stood up for him, which is how the fight started.
He did leave a note. It said, “I’m going away for a while; don’t try to find me. Maybe I’ll come back when you’ve found your senses.”
So he left. He ran out of the village and entered the woods just as the fog settled in. This was great; now, it would be harder for anyone to find him.
———
Having received Cheryl’s message, Harold took his road map and plotted a course to the 
castle. It would take him to a dense part of the woods. As the fog rolled in, he became more than somewhat concerned about his son.
As he reached the abandoned castle and looked upon it, the immensity of it all overwhelmed him. The castle itself was threatening: the darkness of its walls, the vines growing up its sides, and the ugly-shaped gargoyles that stood guard over each portal. Add to that the fog, which now was very dense, and the bone-strewn pathway leading up to the front door. Why would anyone want to enter there?
Of course, Harold was aware of Mathew’s proclivities and knew this was just where his son would seek refuge.
Cheryl’s note was clear: do not enter through the front door. Harold assumed it was some legend about ghosts and death. He went to the side of the castle, the one that, on any given day, would be more in the sun. He found the foothold Cheryl referred to and climbed the wall to the first opening. Ignoring the ever-present gargoyle, Harold climbed through the window.
Once inside, it wasn’t hard to find Mathew. He could hear the familiar sounds of sniffling and tears. Mathew was sitting in the dark corner of what must have been a bed chamber. Harold sat down next to his son and put an arm around him.
Mathew leaned into his father’s embrace and sobbed, “Why won’t she listen to me? It wasn’t my fault. I was preventing Jack from fighting. He was defending mom.”
Harold comforted his son, “I know you know it’s not her fault either. It’s just as hard for her as it is for you. Maybe we should talk to her together. We need to give her time. We also need to address the handling of this incident with your principal. That certainly would help. Would you like to try that?”
Wiping his tear-stained face, Mathew hugged his father tightly. “Yes, I would,” was his reply.
“Then we’ll do it together as a family.” His father helped him up, and they began climbing back out of the castle. (Why tempt fate by using the front door?)
When they got within signal range, Harold called Cheryl and explained the situation.
———-
Mathew hesitated before going back into the house. Reassured by his dad, he slowly went in, his head down as he walked towards his mother. “I’m sorry,” he said.
With tears in her eyes, she hugged him tightly and sobbed, “So am I. I’ll try to be a better person. I will listen to you.”
Harold walked over, put his arms around them, and assured them, “We all will.”
