A Child's Peril

• Maeve Sanders, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

The boy was sitting in the corner playing contentedly with his toy plane. His father had been away on business and his real mother had left a long time ago. The boy’s father had asked me to look after the children that didn't go away with their mothers when he was away on business. I looked out the window into the hot Riyadh city. It was sunny and dry but it felt like a dark gloomy day in here as the master's children were crying in their rooms.

“Little one,” I said
“Do you want some food?”
“No,” he said plainly.
I walked away not knowing what to do, how could I help him? Was he being brave and trying not to cry? What was wrong? None of the other boys were like this so it couldn't be a genetic problem. After a good hour, he finally spoke.
“Samaira,” he said
“Yes,” I responded my voice sounding panicked. It was the first time he had talked when I hadn’t asked a question all day.
“Where’s dad?” He said.
I didn't know what to say, the child was so sweet but I didn't want him to suffer and he surely would if I told him his father had just died in a plane crash.
“Where is dad Samaria?” he asked again.
I walked over to him slowly and picked him up and put him on my lap.
“Well,” I hesitated. “You see your father was on a plane going to his next wedding and he, well,” I gulped visibly hesitating, “Something went horribly wrong and the plane crashed, I'm afraid your father Muhammad Bin Laden didn't make it”.

I had said all this in a timid rather quiet voice and I wasn't sure if he had heard me as he didn't seem to process the information and he just blinked at me as if looking to see if I was lying. After a while, he got up and walked over to the corner looking out of the window.
“Little one?” I said, “Are you okay?”.
I had expected more of a response from him as what I had just said should have a great impact on him even if he didn't really know him that man was still his father. I sensed that he was getting impatient when he asked me something.
“Would you please call me by my real name. I am now the man of the house and I would like to be treated like it or else you are fired,” he stated, looking up at me.
I hesitated because I loved thinking of him as my own and I would have thought that he might think of me that way too, I was also shocked because he had never been so verbally aggressive but finally I said, “If that is what you want master Osama”.