As a young boy Sam fought with the other kids. They hurt him and he hurt them too. As the years went by Sam grew up -just a little – and decided he didn’t want to hurt or be hurt anymore. So he ran. Sam ran as far as the wind would take him, but he soon realized that it wasn’t the wind who held him back.
Sam had hoped that his feet would grow stronger the more he ran. Certainly his legs did and soon he could outrun the other children. However, as rough and calloused his feet got, they were always hurting from the debris on the road: pebbles, wood splinters, broken glass, metal dust and the smashed snail shells from crueler children.
So Sam sold all his meager belongings and when he didn’t have enough he stole what he could. With finally enough in his pocket, he went and bought a new pair of shoes.
The shoes were fiery red with a black diamond insignia and they catapulted him through day and night, eastwards and away from all the leering crowds. Sam ran until even the wind could no longer catch him and the sunlight, barely. Through the hills and valleys, through towns long abandoned, and bustling marketplaces alike Sam’s breath got shorter and shorter.
Finally one day, as Sam reached the City his feet started to hurt. Bewildered, he stopped and found out to his dismay that the soles of his shoes were completely gone. He took the shoes off and tossed them into the trash can, for he believed he had run far away long enough. He took the shoebox he had been carrying this whole time and sat down in the nearby park, staring intently into its emptiness, as if waiting for a new pair to sprout.
Some people walked past and looked at Sam in contempt. Sam had been running so long that he had almost forgotten this feeling. Almost and not really. More walked by, making rude comments. When enough people had walked by, enough days had passed, sufficient comfort was reached and adequate tempers rose, a small group of them stood from a distance in the rain and threw mud at him. Another group walked by and spat at him.
Not quite knowing what to do, Sam mixed the mud with the spit and he placed it neatly into his shoebox. After only one day his box was filled to the brim, so he prayed that no more people would come since he didn’t have any more space. What would he do with it? As soon as he opened his eyes the sun came out in full force. Sam left his usual spot and went to nap under the shade of a tree.
When Sam awoke, he returned to his spot to find that a miracle had happened. Someone had left him a gift. Inside his shoebox there was a brick. It was an ordinary brick. When it was cold, the brick became cold. When it was warm, the brick was warm. Again, in his confusion, he removed the brick and he laid it out before him on the ground.
Soon a new tirade assaulted him, with mud and spit complimentary. Again, Sam packed the shoebox and when it was full he laid it out in the sun and took a nap. Again, Sam awoke to a brick and laid it out so that it was touching the other brick on the short side.
Weeks passed, and Sam had begun building a wall. He discovered that if the people walking by could not see him, he would be left alone. However it was not yet tall enough so whenever he stood or when people walked off the pathway they saw Sam and began to hurl insults at him, among other things.
More weeks passed by and his haven became a house with circular walls. However as the weeks passed Sam became more weary of the attacks. Sometimes Sam really wanted to pick up one of his bricks and throw it at them. He wanted to smash their teeth in and bludgeon them into a pile of broken bodies. Sometimes, he wanted to smash his own head in with the brick. But he knew both options were not good. So instead he sat holding that brick until his knuckles went white and he pressed it tightly against his forehead. When he became numb and could feel no more he released the brick and set it on top of his wall.
One day there were raps and taps on his wall. Sam stood up, but he could not see well because his wall had become so high. The knocks became harder and faster. Sam was annoyed but he knew whatever they were throwing wouldn’t get through his wall. But he was wrong. A hammer burst it’s way through and a curious man peered in.
Sam was afraid! He was trapped with nowhere to run. The man said hello and told him that he didn’t realize anyone was living in here. They spoke with each other briefly and then the man left. Sam had a mix of emotions, but in the end he repaired the wall and built it twice as thick at the expense of shortening his tower.
Then one day, the rain came down and didn’t stop. At first Sam was delighted to be refreshed. Then he became to grow worried as the water swelled up to his knees. He had built his tower too well – there was no hole or loose brick. The water filled up to his belly and now Sam began to frantically pound and push against his tower, but the walls were now too thick to budge. The water crept up to his neck and as a last resort Sam screamed out for help. But nobody could tell where the sound was coming from, even if they had cared to come to his rescue.
The flood overcame him and his head was now fully submerged, his last breath sucked into his squeezed lungs. Sam didn’t think of a way to escape because it was futile. He didn’t think of his loved ones, because he didn’t have any. He didn’t even think of the man with the hammer because he came and went so quickly.
Sam didn’t think of all the things he regretted doing, because he knew deep in his heart that he regretted everything he had done. Except one. In his final moments, Sam regretted never learning to swim.
the.whipping.boy 