EXILED INNOCENCE—CHILD OF THE LOST

Short story based on an article about several thousand urns found in a room in the basement of an insane asylum.

Author's Note

A few years ago, my friend, April, shared an article with our group. It was a story about thousands of urns found in a large room in the basement of an asylum—all on shelves in rows—labeled, counted and forgotten. When I heard about it, this small child started whispering in my ear.

The child speaks…

“Where is Freddy? I’ve been wandering for hours…Mommy!...Daddy! Why did you leave me here in this scary place?...Was I bad?

I didn’t mean to have all those nightmares…didn’t mean to fly into those raging fits…didn’t mean to stare to long into those walls of writhing snakes…Did I make you stop loving me?

I remember all those nights when I first got here…I was so frightened. So much screaming, wailing and banging…I got used to it, but the nightmares never stopped.

It was just me and Freddy against it all—thru all their harsh treatment to make me better. He comforted me at night as I held his fuzzy, teddy bear body tightly in the darkness—my one link to home.

I got very sick, Mommy, and you never came—I got so hot and I couldn’t breath—then it got all quiet.

I’ve been wandering so long among all these jars. This room is so big and so dark and filled with so much sadness and confusion—Mommy! Daddy!—I’m so lost and so scared, but I know it will be all right if I could just find Freddy…”