Short Fiction by
Garcia, RIcael Jazmine B.
The boy’s name is Lorenzo Craughwell, from the patron saint of poverty. A 7 years old mute boy with dyslexia. He has an indigent family made up of five siblings, including him being the third son and the youngest of them all. People call them the “illiterates” and Lorenzo is the most foolish among the family. He always came in school late, with his beat-up uniform and shoes.
When the school bell rang, Lorenzo took a seat in the back of the class, drawing out his notebook with a pencil in his hand. He began to sketch until Mr. Abel, his teacher, came in front of his desk and cried out his name. “Mr. Craughwell! I want you to write an essay not a drawing! For God sake, this is an English class! Get out!” The boy stared at his teacher with his beet red face then run towards the door leaving the mumbles of his classmates behind saying “What a moron he is.”
Instead of being upset and come home. Lorenzo took a hasty detour on their neighborhood with an eager look on his face. Through the same familiar path, he ended up in front of a large white house. It always look so beautiful, yet it appears so lonely. People says the owner of the house, is one of the great doctor of their country and owner of a known hospital. But some says he is a heartless old man named Nicholas. Nobody knows the story behind the cold gate. Still, Lorenzo continued to crawl at the gap of the brick wall. He run towards the back window of the house and settle at his usual spot to watch. He began to walk out of the gate at exactly 4pm toward his home, assuming that no one discover what he’s doing outside of the house.
He continued to walk and saw his mother in front of their house with a scowl on her face. “You’re late!” His mother cried out as she left him outside the house. Hearing a cough, he glance behind and warm eyes stared back at him. “How’s your day?” asked by his father, the kindest man he ever known and the only man who believes in him. He began to straighten his back to look cheerful and smile at his dad. They walk back to their house with his father’s hand on his shoulder.
Lorenzo left their house early in the morning to sell their goods before going to his school. When he came at the class, he expected the usual scolding of Mr. Abel. Surprisingly, Mr. Abel had these troubled eyes looking at him. “Why are you here Mr. Craughwell? Your dad is in the hospital.” He run and didn’t even let his teacher finish.
Three days later, the results for the several tests came up, but the doctors seems confuse since the test doesn’t show anything wrong. If the doctors continued to conduct examinations they can’t pay their debts. Being the youngest, he is the one who is left behind to look out for their father.
In the hospital he began to look at his father’s test, and draw pictures of it. He showed it to his family, but they ignored it. He then took it to the doctors but they never understand his drawing. The only one willing to understand his drawing is the nurse assigned to his father.
He began to explain his drawing and the nurse began to label the parts of it amazed by his knowledge and thought that this is just a game for Lorenzo until he put the CT scan of his father’s brain besides the drawing. It showed the damage on his brain, a small blood clot, which is nearly hidden in the CT scan, but the drawing is clear enough with the labels.
The nurse left the room in a hurry. Soon, the room became full of spectators, and doctors, who transfer his father on a surgery room after confirming the boy’s drawing. Time past by waiting for the doctor’s evaluation with his family. The surgery is a success, but they still can’t pay up their debt at the hospital. An old man came towards them. Smiling at Lorenzo and pass a video tape. Lorenzo took it and look at it, he can’t read but still he can see the picture on the video tape. A picture of surgery. Then he turned at Lorenzo’s mother, saying he will pay all the money but in return, they will let their son, be his student. His mother shock by the sudden declaration, didn’t have enough time to reply. The doctor offered his hands on Lorenzo saying “I’m Nicholas by the way.”
NOTE: Post I made since I did not join the Creative Writing Workshop of The Varsitarian