Here’s the beginning of a story. What is this story’s title? Leave in comments, please!
Tyler knew his father had left him. His dad also, in the leaving, left his mother, but it was Tyler he was avoiding. Even at age four, he knew this. Ever since Tyler was born, Tyler had bouts of what his dad called crazy time. He had tons of excess energy in his body and it needed to get out, so he would lose control and run around the house bumping into the furniture, shelving, dishes or other people. Anything breakable had to be moved. He trashed rooms and emitted blood-curdling screams.
They moved to a rural house without any close-by neighbors to witness the carnage. This improved things because he could go outside as his safe place, as his mom called it. He could run there and not destroy any household items or hurt other people. Once the crazy time was over, he would collapse and fall asleep wherever he was, exhausted, but the creepy-crawlies on his skin and the fire inside were gone.
At first these sessions happened once a week or so. Then, every day. This is when his father left. His mother stayed with him and helped him through the crazy times. First rule, get somewhere safe.
She told him that the crazy times were his to manage and if abided by the first rule, he would be able to achieve the second rule: He could be anyone he wanted to be. She wanted to support him and make him understand that even with differences, he could be something special.
Right now, at age nine, he wanted to be a tiger. Not exactly what she meant, but it was what he wanted to be right then.
He was outside at their house, in the way back in the long grass. He wanted to be a tiger, so he became one. He crouched down and lifted his paw. He stalked the robin, approaching slowly and carefully, using his nose and whiskers to keep track of the bird. As he approached, the bird hopped away, sensing danger. But it didn’t matter, he was a tiger and tigers are patient and powerful. He got close to the bird, raised his paw, extended his claws, and pounced. The bird flopped to the ground and the tiger used its right paw to rip its head completely off. The tiger looked down at the dead bird and watched the organs and blood ooze from its neck. They weren’t appetizing to him, but he knew that tigers always eat their prey, so he lifted his right paw, brought the bloody remains to his mouth, and sucked each finger clean, one-by-one.
