I was a master at running on my toes, something I did until I was about 12. I dashed down the hallway grabbing the doorframe of my parent’s room to help catapult me around the corner of the threshold. I dropped to the floor, stomach plastered to the carpeting. I shimmied myself under the foot of the bed.
This was no ordinary bed. It was one of those huge wooden frames that held a waterbed. The end of the wooden bed extended past the base about a foot. That was my sanctuary. I wiggled over till my body was against the base and then scooted back towards the far end of the bed. I needed to minimize visualization. I was in the forbidden room. We were never to go in there. Rumor had it that mom and dad used to hide presents there for Christmas and other holidays, months in advance. My brothers always jumped at the chance to break in and find all the goodies. I loved a good surprise so it wasn’t very often that I indulged in their rebellious curiosity. This was my chance to break into the forbidden walls though. I knew he wouldn’t look for me here, at least until he had exhausted all other efforts.
I grinned and desperately tried not to giggle knowing I had found the king of all hiding spots. Boredom crept up on me after about 5 minutes. Just as I was contemplating coming out and declaring myself the winner never to reveal my hiding spot, I heard him coming towards the door. I froze. My heart raced in anticipation. The grin disappeared from my face. I closed my eyes in desperate attempt to hide myself deeper into the darkness. I was cheating myself. I peeked through my clenched eyes, telling myself I was still hidden yet deceiving my body by looking. I saw his feet inching closer. I hadn’t realized I stopped breathing. I felt like the air was going to explode from my lungs. I tried to let it out slowly, but it came out with a big, “PUH!” Damn, he found me. He points and laughs at me, “Ha ha, I found you! You’re it!” I gave into his taunts and conceded the loss.
Playing hide and seek was always one of my favorite childhood games. I always thought I was great at anything I tried, which I was usually right about. Hide and seek was my game though. My. Game. I often humored my brother in these games; I knew I was still the champion regardless.
This time, it was my turn to count. I could find anyone, anywhere. I was the master of details. I memorized where everything was when we played. I noticed where toys were, where the clothing was tossed and most important, I listened. I closed my eyes, turned around and placed one hand over each eye. I began the ascent to 30. He ran while screaming, “No peeking Kim! No peeking…” Stupid boy, your voice will lead me to you. But I would never give away my secrets. I shall conquer.
Time was up and I began my hunt. I retraced my memories. The sound, the floor, the trace of moved articles on the floor. He was hiding in my room, I just knew it. I didn’t want him to know I was coming, so again I tiptoed around the corner and into the room. I slunk against the wall and the closet door. He wasn’t under the bed or in the closet. There wasn’t room in either place. I was a slob. The only two options he had were under a pile of clothing or on the other side of my desk that had a hutch atop. None of the clothing appeared to have reproduced. Bingo, he was against the wall on the other side of the desk. I sang and danced the dance of triumph inside my head. He still had no idea I was there. I ducked down and practically crab-walked towards the wall where I knew he was. Then suddenly, I jumped up and screamed, “Found you! Haha!”
He screamed in surprise. His face was glorious to see. It held a look of pure terror from being startled and caught all at the same time. Then his face turned from terror to anger. He hated when someone scared him, which is why I so devilishly enjoyed the feat. He yelled with his seven year old voice still slightly shaky, “You bitch!” What happened next, I can only describe as something from a movie, what seemed like a moment of perfectly planned revenge. It was a scene filmed in slow-motion. His hands reached up and onto my hutch. I saw his nail beds turn white. I knew he was holding on tight. Then he strained and it happened. The hutch started to move, the top more so than any other part of it. It teetered there for what felt like a minute but was probably closer to a half second. Then he moved his body with the rocking of the hutch to encourage the movement. It was like watching a building collapse. The hutch leaned and fell slowly, then faster as gravity took its hold. It crashed over my wooden desk chair and the top hit the floor. The bottom of the hutch remained elevated above the desk. He stood there for a minute. I just stared at it. I looked at him.
That’s when I heard mom come running down the hallway. Oh no. If only I could cast a spell and disappear. This is going to be very bad. “What happened,” she asks as she enters the room. Then she sees the fallen hutch between my brother and I.
Critique away please. "Are you getting people asking for more?" You tell me.