This is a fictional story to put human flesh on the boy who gave up his fish and loaves for the five thousand. I completely made up everything, but maybe it will help us see this boy as a person and not just a name in typeface. Enjoy!

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Theo’s eyes refused to open. Sleep had sealed them shut and even the obnoxious chickens in the front yard couldn’t rouse him.

The scream breezed in and halted right next to his ear drums and seemed to reverberate in between his ears. Theo wrapped the scratchy threads of his blanket closer around him and tried to tune out the sound.

“THEEEEE-O!”

In moments like this, Theo downright despised his name for being two syllables. Why couldn’t he be like the other kids, who had good-sounding, tongue-twisting names like Abinadab or Bizjothjah or Gath-rimmon. No one ran around screaming out those boys’ names.

Theo’s two-syllable name made the dull, gray morning even less desirable as he swung his bare feet to the cold, dirt floor. He rested his hands on the side of the cot and took a deep breath with half-open eyes and then slid his feet into leather sandals and laced them up his dusty calves.

“THEEEEEEEEE–“

“Yes! I’m here!” Theo grumbled, just as his sister Hannah appeared with mid-screaming mouth in the open doorway. Theo grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder, barely hearing his sister’s endless chatter.

“…and because of that, I am still not ready to leave to get water for the well and you have to feed the animals because they have been bellowing all morning and you know I also woke up extra early to help Mama because Father set off for the Sea and don’t you remember that today you are going to the Sea of Galilee to be with Father? And–“

“Wait, what did you say?” Theo was extremely adept at tuning out his three sisters, but it sometimes kept him from important information, like today. “Did you say I’m to go to the Sea of Galilee to be with Father?”

“Yes, Theo, of course! Now, feed the animals so they will quit bellowing and ask Mama to pack your satchel with food for the meal. You don’t know how long you will be away today.” With that, Hannah smoothed her long mantle and tucked some stray, wind-swept strands into her chocolate braid.

Theo, with the news of his day’s agenda, startled himself into wakefulness and went about the morning chores all the time thinking about the gathering at the Sea of Galilee. His strong, calloused hands worked the burlap bags easily and before his sister could return to pester him, he had already finished. He rushed back inside, sending a cloud of smoke to cover him head to toe, and went in search of Mama.

“Mama! I’m to meet Father today at the gathering over at the Sea of Galilee. What have you to send with me for food? …But, I must hurry!” Theo had only heard rumors about all the commotion about prophets in the region lately, but he knew enough to know that the gathering at the Sea would be more interesting than a day working at home. A day at home would be filled to the brim with mundane chores and errands and two-syllables screams.

“Okay, okay. Calm down, Theo,” as she spoke Mama moved toward the kitchen to retrieve two fish from the ice drawer and loaves of barley bread from the pantry. “Take these to your father and bring back a full report. Even if your father doesn’t return tonight, I want you to be back before twilight, do you hear?”

“Mama, do I really bring fish? I am walking and you know how they will begin to stink on the way!!” Though almost 12, Theo still whined like a small child… especially about fish. “I don’t even like fish, Mama!”

“These fish are all I have to send, okay? Please, just take them to your father and refresh him with this food and your presence,” Mama now wrapped the fish in paper and carefully placed them in Theo’s satchel with five barley loaves.

Reluctant, Theo resigned to his duty, happy for the reprieve from chores but unsure about the prospect of smelling fish for the two-hour-long journey to the Sea.

“Okay, Mama.” His hazel cinnamon eyes smiled ever-so-slightly before he turned and started walking along the path.

After 15 minutes, Theo quickly realized that walking in the heat of the day was easily as horrible as doing chores at home. He spent the next 15 minutes arguing with himself which he would rather do. The argument ended without conclusion, except that both were undesirable and he had another hour and 30 minutes before he reached his destination. He could feel the sweat pooling on his back underneath his tunic and he shifted uncomfortably. The heat was unbearable.

Finally, he came upon the Sea and saw a great crowd assembling at the base of a mountain. He maneuvered his way (the benefits of his still-small frame) through the people to find his father. His eyes accustomed to the search for the broad-shouldered man, Theo found him quickly and they exchanged stories from the morning. Theo listened carefully as his father explained that the man, Jesus, had been speaking. The great mass of people had gathered abruptly, leaving work and daily agendas to hear the famed “healer” talk about authority and judgment and the glory of God.

Theo strained to see the man who had caused all the disruption, but could only see shoulders and beards. He raised his hand to feel his smooth jaw-line, silently wishing for the day he would have a full, man’s beard and strong, broad shoulders like his father. He brought his attention back to his father’s description,

“…and there’s nothing really unique about him. That’s the strange thing – everyone is drawn to him and his message, but no one exactly knows why. He talks about heaven and life and maybe we are desperate to hear about some hope. I don’t know, Theo, this man is either really dangerous or…. or…. well, I don’t know.”

Theo nodded along at his father’s words as he looked at the people around him. They all stood transfixed and in hushed conversation about the “healer” and his ways.

Suddenly, a small group seem to be conferring just above the crowd. Several in the group seemed agitated, but one man lifted his hands and placed them on their shoulders. He motioned out to the crowd and spoke a few more words before the men dispersed.

“That’s the one – the man in the center who just settled that dispute. That’s Jesus,” Theo’s father said.

Soon, the two men from the dispute were circling around the crowd and asking if anyone had any food. They walked amongst the crowd, searching (quite desperately) for someone who had food with them.

Without thinking, Theo approached one of the men and opened his satchel, “I have two fish and five barley loaves.” He looked up at the men and searched their eyes. A quiet burning pushed him to say again, “Did you hear? I have some fish and some barley loaves here in my satchel.” Theo lifted it up for their inspection.

The men nodded at one another and then, thanking Theo, swooped into his satchel and left it limp at his side. They wove back through the crowd, asking the same question, “Does anyone have any food?”

Theo returned to his father who stood with an unpleasant, furrowed brow. “And now, son, what do you expect us to eat?”

“Uh, I… I don’t know father. I just, well, I don’t know what happened. I saw they needed food and remembered I had some. I couldn’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t give it to them…. I….”

Before Theo could finish, the man named Jesus was holding the loaves and the fish and blessing them. Theo looked twice and a third time to make sure the man was the “healer” and that what he had in his hands were the very stinky fish he had carried in his satchel. Having confirmed these things, he began to squirm through the crowd to get a closer look. Within minutes he was at the very front, watching Jesus motion for the men to bring him the baskets.

Theo realized that his food was the sole contribution to the questions from the men earlier. And now, Theo watched as the man named Jesus blessed and broke his bread and filled baskets with it. The five barley loaves seemed never to grow smaller, only breaking off into more pieces. Now, Jesus was telling the men to pass the bread around so everyone would eat and be full. Theo thought for sure the fish would be a personal meal for the healer, but it was not so. The man named Jesus took the fish next and broke it and filled baskets for the men to pass around.

Theo stood incredulous as the baskets passed by him and he took from the bounty. He could have filled his whole satchel several times with what he saw in front of him. Then the basket passed with the fish and again Theo marveled at the way the food had multiplied right in front of his eyes. Even the long journey with smelly fish seemed a small thing compared to this crowd enjoying a full meal.

He came only with two fish and five loaves and gave it away without knowing why. Now, he saw that all he gave was multiplied for thousands of people. Twelve baskets stacked up around the edges of the crowd because the people couldn’t eat another bite!

This was no ordinary day and no ordinary adventure and no ordinary healer. Theo silently declared he would be willing to give much more to a man like this.

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Today’s creative writing comes by way of my friend Johanna who suggested I tell the story of a Norman Rockwell painting. I typed in Norman Rockwell, hit images, and selected the very first (which happened to be from http://www.rumorsdaily.com) and off I go.

Little Sammy Whittendorf got as far as Eagle Run Creek before he started to get blisters on his heels. He hadn’t thought about how irksome his church shoes would be on the long journey, only about how tennis shoes wouldn’t do for his entrepreneurial enterprising of the great western frontier. As he leaned down to tie the brown, slippery laces for the 23rd time, he wished he had chosen Monday comfort over Sunday style. He rose again and stretched his 7-year-old frame, lifting all his possessions and investment portfolios high into the air and then letting the red bundle linger a bit before finding its place on his shoulder.

Sammy peered over the single lane bridge at Eagle Run Creek and imagined he saw himself in the wrinkles of water. He didn’t, of course, but he imagined a reflection of a strong, important man with a red bundle for a briefcase on his way to see about some business. Sammy quickly realized he wasn’t imagining at all, but simply explaining his task for this glorious September day filled with opportunity. Enterprising was much more important than school and subtraction and Walter Leadenhower. Yes, he thought to himself, enterprising was much more important.

He leaned down and picked up a rough piece of grey gravel and weighed it in his palm. With all the strength in his enterprising spirit, he thrust it out and over the bridge and watched the fast descent. A bit disappointed with the distance, Sammy concluded decidedly there was a strong easterly wind coming in which reminded him he should get moving. He was to be at Fletcher’s Crossing before noon and the sun was already climbing high above his head.

Sammy left the bridge forgetting about blisters, although his socks were beginning to soak and would remind him later. His sights were set on the undiscovered and (Sammy was convinced) untapped resources of the expansive plain beyond the town of Harrelsville, Iowa. Though still in the formative stages, the success of his hastily laid plans was every bit as sure as his awkward, arm-swinging stride.

About five paces after crossing the bridge, Sammy heard a distant rumbling that quickly turned into a much louder roar. Gripping his red bundle, he meant to dart into the ditch for cover (many a soul could be out to steal his innovative, if not quite complete, plans), but the combination of dust and a familiar voice sent him into confusion.

The voice boomed out of a dream-cloud of smoke, “Sammy? Is that you? What in tarnation are you doing out here? We been lookin’ all over for you!”

Everything dreamlike faded and Sammy’s hopes of enterprising the great western frontier of Harrelsville with it.

“Hello, Officer Patterson,” kind of mumbled out of Sammy’s lower, protruding lip.

“You know you walked almost 2 miles from your mom and pap’s house? Now, that’s a long way, son.”

Sammy kicked at the grey gravel rocks underneath his feet, sending little dust clouds up to his chin. His red bundle had dropped and now sat beside him, a dejected pile imitated by his face.

“I only wanted to enterprise the western frontier, Officer.” He sputtered on, “I just thought to myself, ‘what good is all these numbers if I can’t go-a-enterprisin’ and makin’ somethin’ of myself?’ That’s what I thought, Officer, honest!”

Officer Patterson’s eyebrows were knit together in one long line across his forehead and his nose jutted out under his important policeman hat. He seemed to think for a moment before he said, “You know what, Sammy?”

“Well, no I don’t know, Officer Patterson,” Sammy answered after he judged the pause too long.

“I was just wonderin’ how you’d feel about some ice cream right about now. See, I’ve been feeling myself a little hungry for that rocky road flavor they got in new last week at the diner, what d’ya say?”

“Oh boy, oh boy! Officer Patterson, I thought for sure I was going to cry, but I love ice cream and now you’ve done it,” Sammy caught himself in mid-ice cream-excitement, before his smile covered his whole face, “But, Officer I still want to enterprise, is that okay?”

“Maybe we can talk about this enterprise business with Teddy Noucomb at the diner. He’s always got some good advice for… you know, enterprising, as you call it.”

“Hm,” Sammy rubbed his sweaty palms on the newly dirtied white t-shirt he wore, “I’ll think about it. You can’t talk business and enterprising with just anybody, you know.”

“Oh, I do know. I do know,” Officer Patterson said as he settled his blue hat back into place over his knitted brows and jutting-out nose.

“I s’pose I’ll go then,” Sammy said, picking up his red bundle and walking toward Officer Patterson’s cruiser. The Officer opened the passenger door and secured the truant before walking around and taking his seat on the driver’s side.

“I s’pose that’d be a good idea.”

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Every Day in May Project, Number TRES

(Writing prompt #92 from Creative Writing Prompts)

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He wore the night around his neck, next to his wrinkled flannel shirt. The pearly snaps were the only smooth surfaces in his entire ensemble, but the man would never notice. He claimed the comfortable treasure (not of the re-worked fashion vintage variety) when his father had passed away one year before and had worn the plaid pattern almost every day since.

His sinister hands found the depths of his denim pockets and wrestled with the gray lint as he walked. It was morning, but the days passed without the normal measures of time. There was no work or school or duties or appointments. There was only the man, the flannel, the lint, and the very intentional walking. On this morning, the man looked up from his decisive path to see an empty café. The man quickly took note of the time, gathered it was around 8 am, and then wondered why the young aproned girl inside was sweeping around empty tables.

It had been awhile since the man’s thoughts wandered from the flannel, the lint, and the walking, but something about the deserted morning destination drew him inside. Fumbling for a tight grip on the lint cloud with his right hand, he pushed the café door with his left, and entered headfirst. The man couldn’t form an answer when he heard the aproned girl ask, “Welcome, sir. Where would you like to sit?”

He stood there, looking at the floor, and the whole mess of a solitary year rushed his mind. The conversation seemed to invite him so simply out of the self-imposed shell he crawled into after his father’s passing. He drank her words like sweet honey and then managed, “I’m sorry, you said?”

“I said, welcome. Would you like a table?” This time she tilted her head to the side and leaned her broom against the wall.

He thought a smile pulled at the corner of her lips, but he hadn’t studied a human face in so long he wasn’t quite sure. He realized, as he wondered about the occasion of a smile, that the aproned girl was expecting a response to her question and he furiously rubbed the lint with his right hand and said, “Uh, yes, this one will do. Thank you.”

He chose a table by the window, but nestled next to a book shelf filled with classics and comics – a strange combination, he thought. Without warning, the aproned girl set herself down across from the man and asked where he was walking from.

That morning, the man skipped breakfast.

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What do you think? Should I continue with this for a longer story?

This is Day TWO of the Every Day in May Project.