Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Once upon a time there was a fisherman, he sat on the same spot on the docks every day with his rusty tackle box and bait bucket, waiting for a bite whilst he gutted the fish already caught. It was a very quiet place, an abandoned factory loomed behind him but on this day, it was less quiet, as he could hear the cries of someone or something nearby.
He looked all around then walked from his spot, picked up sheets of corrugated iron and boxes but he could not find who or what was wailing and crying. Then, above him, he saw the sleeve of a pink jumper and a small, chubby hand of a toddler, seemingly trapped in a large cage about 20 metres above. The baby was rattling the mesh hard and appeared to be sitting on a mattress covered in a beautiful patchwork. Every day he had been there that week, he had been alone, never seeing another soul and now this baby had appeared. The baby had seen him now and wailed even harder.
“Maybe it’s hungry?” he instinctively thought, but he did not know how to get up to the baby. He put down his fishing rod and walked through the door into the dark factory. He picked his way through much rubble, fallen planks and assorted debris, following the cries of the baby. He walked and walked and then he saw the ladder.
“Someone put that there,” he thought. “One day they might come back for that baby,” he started to walk back to his fishing gear and spot on the dock.
“BUT!” spoke his conscience. “What if they DON’T??”
The fisherman sighed, turned back to the ladder. He climbed carefully, all the while making gentle, soothing coos to the baby whose wails had become ever more urgent.
Bright sunlight stung his eyes as he popped up in front of the cage. The baby was turned to him, face filled with rage, her face wet with tears.
“TOLD YOU NOT GOING!!!” she screamed.
Because of that he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and went to wipe her tears but a giant padlock stood between him and the baby, it was locked, with no key in site.
“Hang on, hang on,” he tried to placate the baby but she screamed once again when he turned to climb the ladder back to his tackle box. “Geez….”
The fisherman felt around in his pockets for some sort of implement with which to pick the lock, nothing, just his own keys.
That’s when he saw it, his heart skipping a beat, a shiny silver key sat amongst his grubby, worn keys, one he had never before seen. He lifted the key up to inspect it then took the padlock into his hand.
“Surely not…” he slipped the key into the padlock, it slid in smoothly and, when he turned it, the lock opened with a small click.
All at once the cage door flew open until finally it was wide enough for the baby to throw herself at him.
“Told you not going,” she sobbed into him.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he soothed and patted her back. “I’m here now,”
The envelope sitting on the beautiful patchwork quilt was clean, expensive, the type of note paper that rich people have. He picked it up, opened it and, with the baby clutched to his chest he read the note.
“I cannot keep Penelope,” it read. “I am gutted, please keep her safe.”
He folded the note and wrapped Penelope in the patchwork quilt, carrying her down the ladder to his tackle box and spot on the dock.
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