Dec 8, 2020 5:38 am
December 8th, 1910
Inglewood Children's Home
December 8th was a day like any other. Mrs. Fern White woke the children up at seven sharp, as was her custom. Mr. White was no where to be seen until late in the evening, as was his custom. Fern White had the children eat, and wash, and clean, and do their lessons, as was their custom. Christmas was getting ever so close, and the children were on their best behavior. They studied extra hard, cleaned extra well, and never complained about the food that was given to them, either in quality or quantity.
At the close of the day, Mr. White returns from wherever it was he spends his days, and went about the business of setting the children to sleep. Fern watched from the door frame, as he liked to see the smiles on the children's faces as Mr. White told them bedtime stories. Eventually, Mr. White would stand up, declare it time for bed, to jeers from the children. A day like any other.
But the night was a different story...
You had terrible trouble sleeping that night. Tossing and turning, tossing and turning. You felt restless and the odd sense of motion. You awake, not in your beds, but instead somewhere unfamiliar. The sound of waves calmly lapping on to a sandy beach. Gulls squawking over head. You look around you. You don't recognize the company you're in. Looking down, you don't recognize your own body.
Inglewood Children's Home
December 8th was a day like any other. Mrs. Fern White woke the children up at seven sharp, as was her custom. Mr. White was no where to be seen until late in the evening, as was his custom. Fern White had the children eat, and wash, and clean, and do their lessons, as was their custom. Christmas was getting ever so close, and the children were on their best behavior. They studied extra hard, cleaned extra well, and never complained about the food that was given to them, either in quality or quantity.
At the close of the day, Mr. White returns from wherever it was he spends his days, and went about the business of setting the children to sleep. Fern watched from the door frame, as he liked to see the smiles on the children's faces as Mr. White told them bedtime stories. Eventually, Mr. White would stand up, declare it time for bed, to jeers from the children. A day like any other.
But the night was a different story...
You had terrible trouble sleeping that night. Tossing and turning, tossing and turning. You felt restless and the odd sense of motion. You awake, not in your beds, but instead somewhere unfamiliar. The sound of waves calmly lapping on to a sandy beach. Gulls squawking over head. You look around you. You don't recognize the company you're in. Looking down, you don't recognize your own body.
