Whispers swept across the room as the wind carried them through the dark covered window. Conan couldn’t sleep, the glue holding soft lined eyelids shut being washed away by the salt filled tears. Rolling his tiny figured body around on the soft sheets, shaking his head trying to rid his head of the awful thoughts and worries.

“Are you asleep honey?” a quiet whisper enters in from another direction contaminating all the others.

“Mom! How could I be asleep?” The noises of a broken heart breach through his voice. His voice slashing through the chain of whispers swirling in his room.

Knocking the covers off of himself, his mother begins to cross the valley of his room. She steps all over litter left all over his shaggy carpet floor. The bed seemed to get farther away as she tried to reach it. As Conan watched his mother come towards his bed he saw the movement flow like molasses, slow and smooth. When she finally reached the bed she plopped her equally tiny body onto his now nightmare encrusted bed. She moved her body until hers was touching her son’s. She enveloped her son into a tight bearing hug, trying to give as much comfort as she possibly could as his mother.

“Conan it isn’t your fault that Shaant ran away,” she cooed in his ears. She spun the words around in her brain as well as she spoke them.

“Of course it is mom!” Conan shouted throwing his mothers grasp around him off, pulling forward to hide his seemingly endless tears from his mother.










Wishing 2

“But it isn’t Conan! Why can’t you see that Shaant left because he was ready to leave us here! Why can’t you just realize that he left because he wanted a different life! I can’t see where you tie into this as being your fault!” His mom thrusted herself off Conan’s bed, her movements full of anger and sadness. Tripping over all of the litter on his carpet once again, making strides to reach the door that now seemed so far away.

When his mother slammed his door shut, Conan finally released all the tears he so desperately held inside. His mother didn’t know why his brother had left; she didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know Conan had told Shannt he hated his brother’s guts. She hadn’t heard them fight over the bathroom so many times. She never heard the times when they told each other words that should have never been conversed. Maybe Shaant would still be here if Conan would have never opened his big mouth.

The thoughts in his head kept turning, like a tilt-a-whirl on hyper drive. The words were spinning endlessly in his mind. He tried to turn them off, flipping the switch every time, just to have the thoughts turn back on and getting brighter every time. Hour upon hour passed by, every curse word shrieked under the blanket above his head. Every muffled scream and shout shot now to his pillow. He wished with all his broken heart that sleep would just evade him now and he could finally sleep.

“Honey?” Conan’s mothers words barely audible under his cascade of pillows.

“What!” Conan shouted as he threw the pillow across the bed. His forces making his mother shrink back a little. He grumbled at the sun shining through the cracks of his window drapes. Throwing the blanket off and sitting up looking like a tornado had stormed through him.










Wishing 3

“They found Shaant,” She told Conan from the safety of the door frame.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” Conan erupted with questions. His heart pounding pulses one after another with no chance of a break. His brain triggered on with the newfound news, had they really found his brother? Was Shaant really coming home?

“He is going to be fine…..”She emphasized the word going as she recited the sentence. He began to wonder what his mother meant.

“What do you mean going to be fine mom?” Conan cocked an eye as he said these words.

“Well honey the police found Shaant on the corner of a street two towns away, bloody and battered. They think that he was jumped but they don’t know for sure. He is in very critical condition; he is in the ICU in the hospital uptown, but honey he won’t be home for awhile.” His mother’s voice uttered with relief and fear. As she stepped around the once tripped over litter of her son’s room she crosses over to Conan’s bed.

“Well can we go see him?” Conan asked as he began tugging stained pants on his uncovered legs.

“Honey its 3 in the morning!” His mother exclaimed to her son’s sudden burst. She sat down on his bed, resting her hand on his shoulder; she tried to channel her relief into her son, hoping almost praying to her good lord that her son would calm down.

“So?” Conan asked stopping dead in his tracks, spinning around to shoot a dagger of anger at his mother.












Wishing 4


“Honey I know you want to go see him, but its too late or early either way you look at it the times isn’t right. I promise we will go see him as soon as we both get some sleep.” His mother cooed as she flipped her son’s shaggy auburn hair out of his face.

“Okay,” Conan responded begrudgingly. He didn’t want to wait to go see his brother, but he knew that his mother was right. While his shoulders slumped, and his head sagged, he let out a sigh of relief; wondering if would be able to sleep now.

After he saw that his mother was securely out of his room, he took off his stained pants that were hastily thrown on before. Sliding under the now piled up covers of his bed he stretches out bringing the ends of the blankets with all his limbs, plopping his head up on the right corner of his pillow to ensure his comfort. The glues that were once washed away from his salt filled tear welded up in heaps, making sleep evade him in a moments notice.

Conan’s mother seeped into his door way, edging the door open with quiet effort. Her head was still spinning from everything that had gone on that night. She knew that she should get some sleep. The next couple hours may be her only sanctuary. She couldn’t bring herself to finally rest though. She stared at her son sleeping in his bed like everything was normal once more. She knew she had raised her boys right; she had done a good job. A single tiny tear escaped from the brim of her eye. Only this time her tears were from happiness.