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Simon's Adventure


by nutty701

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If you’ve ever visited the room of a dreamer, you’d know it. The walls would always be plastered, ever so carefully, with diagrams and drawings, poetry and stories, as well as pictures; thousands and thousands of pictures. The original floor might be completely out of view from the large quantity of supplies that cover it- perhaps costumes and makeup, for those who desire princess-hood, or swords and shields for a little knight. These characteristics were no different from the young Simon’s room.

     Simon, the blue Kougra, had always been a dreamer, from the moment he began to speak and walk. Except Simon was no knight, and no princess, either. He was to be a fabulous explorer. Maps, illustrations and books covered his walls and floors. A safari hat, given to him by his father, sat always, ever so diligently, upon his head. He ran about the house with a wild, untamable eye for adventure. And one day, Simon was to visit the Lost Desert, the heart of the adventure he sought. And, the sooner, the better.

     And so, one Monday morning, he informed his parents, in the utmost professional fashion, that he was to become a famous explorer, and document his journey to the Lost Desert. A journey, which, he added, he would be embarking on early this week. Although, perhaps at the time, the look of immovable doubt upon his parents’ faces was not correctly identified, Simon continued on with his plans anyways. And the next morning, he began to pack.

     He had a careful eye for detail, so Simon packed exactly what was needed, nothing more, and nothing less. Among the first items filled into the bag were his trusted pencil and notepad, where all important notes were kept. Secondly, a blanket, as well as a stuffed dog that was given to him years ago was thrown in. Other items were packed as well, such as a bag of cereal, a water bottle, and many, many maps. Lastly, he placed his trusty safari hat upon his head and waited diligently by the front door. He waited, and waited, and waited, but his parents failed to show up. Had they forgotten? He thought to himself, impatiently. How could anyone forget such an important occasion? He trudged down the seemingly long hallway of his home, and cracked the door of his parents’ room open.

     “Go back to bed, Simon, we aren’t going to the Lost Desert today.”

     The nerve, to get one's hopes up! Perhaps, he thought, if they took him soon, he could forgive this offense. Obviously, he had no choice but to wait until tomorrow. But as tomorrow came, there was no promise to leave. The days rolled by, each day, Simon waiting hopefully by the front door in the early morning, only to be crushed by the seeming inevitability of not traveling to the beloved desert. Little Simon never gave up. These are the characteristics of a dreamer, the ones whose fire will never die, and whose ideas and hopes can never be crushed. Simon would wait, he convinced himself, for a thousand years if he needed, until he could finally have permission to leave.

     The days continued to roll by, every day a bit less harsh than the previous. The let downs became more bearable, a bit more tolerable, for Simon. Almost a half a year went by, every day, sitting by the front door, bag packed and hat on his head, ready to leave for the ancient Lost Desert. But the nagging thought that perhaps he may never make it there suddenly cracked into his head. What a horrid thought, it was, to even consider that thought an option. Perhaps, he would never live his dream. Perhaps none of us would. These thoughts haunted the young Simon.

     One day, after waiting at the front door for close to fifteen minutes, he trudged, just as every day, down the seemingly long hallway, into his parents’ room, where they said to him:

     “Go back to bed, Simon, we aren’t going to the Lost Desert today.”

     But this time, Simon said something different than he usually did. Instead of accepting this defeat, he tried a new approach.

     “Why not,” he asked, with a sideways look on his face. His mother, who was confused by the statement, sat up in her bed. She looked at him with new eyes, as if he had posed a seemingly interesting question. The look that his mother gave him gave Simon an edge, a push, even, to go that much farther.

     “I’ve been waiting a while, and I am already packed and everything.”

     Simon’s father then got in on the action. Both parents, wide eyed and wondering, both looked at each other simultaneously. This told Simon that he had perhaps gone too far in his reasoning, so he ran off into his bedroom. He sat there, like so many days before, and wondered if the action that he took could perhaps have a negative influence on his dream. He concluded that no matter the instance, he would fight as hard as he could to achieve his dreams, no matter what, or in this case, who, was in his way.

     The next morning, Simon’s eyes were tired and droopy. He broadened his long legs out and spread his arms out wide, like a bird, to stretch them. Yawning, he woke up, ready for another day of dreaming. He reached down, beside his beside, to grab his knapsack, which held his belongings for his trip, but he couldn’t find it.

     Panic. Where could he have left it? He had, every night, placed the bag, ever so carefully, beside his bedside, within arm's reach. Where could it be? But then, the worst struck him. His hat, his valuable, most treasured item, had gone missing too. In a heated frenzy, he flung himself out of his bed and across the room. He scattered his drawings and toys, trying to find his beloved items. But no luck. He moved swiftly into the next room, searching worriedly about, but no luck there, too. Finally, he ran to the front door, to find it mysteriously wide open. He peered outside, expecting to find a robber of some sorts, trying to steal his belongings, but instead, he found two figures, walking up the drive way. He made them out to be his parents.

     “Have you seen my bag!? My hat!? I’ve lost them and I’ve looked everywhere-”

     His parents flashed him a loving smile.

     “We thought about what you said yesterday, about why you couldn’t go to the Lost Desert.” They bent down to his height. “Your stuff hasn’t gone missing; we packed it, because we are going on a trip.” His mother smiled. “A trip to the Lost Desert!”

     Simon darted his eyes between his mother and father and found no sarcasm. He suddenly found himself with a great smile upon his face as he realized his dreams were becoming realities! He jumped up into the air with a great joy in his heart and almost began to cry. His dad pulled out from behind his back Simon’s hat, which he placed upon his head.

     “Are you ready to go?” his father asked.

     “Are you kidding,” said Simon. “I was born ready!”

The End

 
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