don’t mind gerald, he has always been one to march to the beat of his own drummer. when i call him in for supper he doesn’t seem to notice or care. do you know how much time he spends in that sandbox everyday? i’d say he spends more time in that box than out. he says he’s looking for his lucky charm. i’m not sure what it is, something that nanna gave him for his birthday a few years ago i think. he digs and digs but so far he hasn’t found what he is looking for. poor gerald. i just don’t know what we are going to do about this.
for a very long time the soldiers remained on the pier. a few of them stole looks back to the ship on which they arrived. several of them paced or circled in place. most of them nervous and fidgety. all of them anxious and uncertain.
we watched them from our windows for a very long time. we fogged up the glass with our breaths, wiped it clean, and fogged it up some more. they were charming and we were hoping they would get hungry enough to start marching our way.
did you hear that? what? that noise. what noise? you didn’t hear it? no. it sounded like… scratching? no… clawing? no… tapping… no… well what was it? i’m not sure. well? it sounds like some thing is in the wall. you’re crazy. am i? maybe. but i heard some thing. listen. there! there is was again. did you hear it? you can’t tell me you didn’t hear it this time! it was clear as day! interrupting the silence of the night. wait. it’s fading. it sounds like it’s moving. it’s…gone.