Maple Leaf : Through the Hole

 'Lose not confidence in your hour of sadness. 

Since the start of man, the 

dimness has consistently been followed 

by the light.' 

- Joe Fazio 

(Brief renderings)

CHAPTER ONE

Morning crawled up with a devastating breeze and what appeared to be the absolute last leaf of Autumn had tumbled from a maple tree. The yellow-earthy colored thing rippled stunningly through the blast as though it were a hummingbird that had recently found an ocean of hollyhocks. Three steel bars, isolated by one foot of open space and four dividers around, remained against the windy breeze in line of the floating leaf. For some long years, very little had at any point entered or left that protected space which dwelled in a tall, thick, incapacitated divider. Maybe it were encompassed in crusted blood from the dull orange rust. However, it was not blood. It was all the more so a glaring representation. A stunning artwork of an imprudence and glaring dismissal for normal upkeep that could debilitate the most awful men. The structure rested in no place, settled inside numerous sections of land of trees and slopes. The main tidiness to be found were the woodlands and waterways, scrubbed sparingly over the long run by the unstoppable force of life. 

The maple leaf, riding on a path of twist toward the north, floated delicately between the steel radiates in the huge divider, and into William's room. The room, which was scarcely one by any means, taken after a little prison or jail cell without the banned entryway which might give any contact to individuals on the opposite side. William woke from his rest similarly as it landed. It was as though he realized something had showed up in his room that ought not have been there. At the point when he peered down from his pad and onto his long, thin, delicate body, he saw it. Upon his right leg, roosted somewhat upwards and out of the grimy white bed sheet he utilized for covers, was the leaf. 

He felt an odd impression of interest and afterward, rapidly after, a sensation of culpability. 

"This isn't right," William expressed, "how would I conceal you from Him?" 

William hadn't seen anything of the rest of the world in so long that even the easiest of things would astonish him. A couple of times throughout the long term he had seen bugs go into his room which would pass on inside the space of hours or days. He'd contact them and throw them a little. One almost turned into his next nibble after an especially long spell without food. As a rule, however, they resembled minuscule guests from the world past the window; making a trip to make proper acquaintance before their stomachs, as well, turned out to be excessively void. 

He would see daylight or twilight glimmer through the banished window in the event that you could call it such a name. Once he saw a little, red bird land on the edge for a couple of moments prior to taking off to who knows where. 

"A Flying Red!" He named it, a long time previously. 

The fact of the matter was, even the birds would not have anything to do with that opening in the divider. The little opening was entirely high up, to the point that William would never expect to see outside of it, see the world which lay just past the dividers. William's reality was in that room. 

The window was his main method of knowing day from night. The window was his main type of cooling. The main contact from anything but himself, bugs, and Father. It was his schedule, his air, his contact, his feared bad dream, and his most amazing dream. Of the multitude of things he had the delight of seeing enter through that opening, it was never such a lovely sight as that delicate leaf. 

In late-Autumn, it was all the while sticking onto its shadings like a destitute man with a bread portion. William shot up and grabbed it from his leg. He held it up to his nose and sucked in through his dainty nostrils, which hadn't smelled whatever that fine in insofar as he might keep in mind. Holding the maple leaf, William realized that he should discard it. Possessing any thing somewhat intriguing was completely illegal, regardless of whether it had entered without consent. This was more difficult than one might expect, notwithstanding, as he had no chance of getting it back through the opening.