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Lost Time Is Never Found Again

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FC: Lost Time Is Never Found Again | Adventures, Achievements and Memoirs of Boo Radley

1: It sure is funny how the truth can be twisted into a lie. No scrap of gossip is let untold in Maycomb; nobody is safe from the machine of contortion that consists of the town's gossipmongers.. My reputation has been maimed and mutilated; it's what's kept me trapped inside this wretched house all these years. It's amazing what I observed of people's lives from afar. Miss Maudie rises every morning at 7:30 to water her azaleas. Mr. Avery sits on his from porch from dawn to dusk. Miss Stephanie sits in front of her mirror and concocts her daily dose of gossip. I've memorized the quirks and habits of each individual in this town, but none of them will ever care enough to think of me. For years, people watching was all I ever did. I watched the townsfolk bustle back and forth from home. I witnessed birth and death. | All About Me: Boo Radley I'm a bit of a recluse. In fact, I'm a complete loner, the social pariah of Maycomb county. I have dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. My skin is pale because of the lack of sun I receive.

2: As time passed, I learned to cope with my seclusion by taking up soap carving and reading, but nothing made me happier than watching the two Finch kids play together. Unlike most children in Maycomb, they weren't judgemental and seemed so pure and innocent. I spent most of my time watching the two of them develop their imaginations through role-play. I longed for the part of my childhood I had lost; I yearned to breathe in the scent of fresh air and cut grass. However, I was too afraid to even approach them, too afraid to step out of my comfort zone. Everyday, I gaze at my ashen complexion in the mirror. I notice my slowly receding hairline and aging skin. I grow weaker as each day passes. Someday, I'll break out of my turtle shell. I won't live up to the rumors everyone has made me out to be. I will break free.

3: I never knew my pa's first name. Yeah, you heard right. Ever since I could talk, I'd only known my father as "Pa". One night in second grade, I asked my pa what his real name was. Without a word, he abruptly stood up from the dinner table and smacked me upside the head before vanishing to his bedroom. I ascended the stairs and burst into his study. "What's your name?" I asked. Pa whirled around, "Son, if you ever ask me again, you'll be getting the whuppin' of a lifetime." My pa wasn't exactly the friendly type, in fact, I'm pretty sure he was never cut out to be a parent. There was something about him; he was too blunt, hardened from all the years of not working. He was thin and lanky with dull eyes. He was empty and lifeless, without a soul. While most children looked to their parents as role models, I looked to my pa as the example of what not to do.

4: When I think of the devil, two words come to my mind: Stephanie Crawford. Her significance in my life has been detrimental to my reputation. She's the town busybody, a ruthless gossip who will stop at nothing to acquire the latest news. She has the ability to turn the dullest story into a dramatic tragedy. It's because of her that I spent days locked in the courthouse basement and almost died of the dampness and mold. Because of her, I am known as a psychotic, cold-blooded criminal; a title I know I don't deserve at all. I've realized that kind people do exist in Maycomb, though they are far and few. Sometimes, it takes the worst to bring out the best. If I have to suffer a little to bring out the best in others, then so be it. | The Devil Herself

5: I remember the day I smiled for the first time in ten years. You can call me soft if you choose to, but in my humble opinion, it's the small things in life that can make a considerable difference in the end. One particular summer morning, I couldn't stand the stifling heat any longer and drilled a hole through my boarded window. I began to descend the stairs when I heard a loud thump on the porch. I ran back and gazed through the peephole to find a small girl splayed across the ground with a tire by her side; two boys were screaming at her from the fence. I watched as the kids ran back to Atticus Finch's house. | I felt my dormant cheek muscles contract as a smile crept up my face. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't mocking their misfortunes. I was simply glad that somebody in Maycomb had the courage to enter the Radley Yard. That event, in short, marked the beginning of a new era for me, a personal revelation.

6: After the tire incident, I made sure the Finch kids got home safely every night. One night, Jem and Scout had been gone for quite some time and I was getting a little anxious. Just then, I saw Jem and Scout stumbling around in the dark. Scout was sporting some kind of strange costume. My eyes suddenly darted to a dark figure of a man lurking behind them and my hear skipped a beat. The man yanked the kids behind a tree; I saw a glimpse of a silver knife. Sprinting down the stairs, I stopped in the foyer as my hand hovered above the doorknob. With every ounce of courage, I burst through the threshold and into the beyond. The next few moments were a blur. I ripped the perpetrator off of Scout; Jem was lying unconscious by an oak tree. | I spotted the knife on the ground and quickly picked it up. The man lunged towards me and I drove the metal blade into his ribs. A heavy body sank to the ground with a thud. I slowly backed away from the scene. Scout had sought refuge in her house and Jem was still knocked out. I hoisted the boy onto my shoulder and walked over to the house. Atticus greeted me with endless gratitude. I simply responded with a nod. Scout looked up at me with her beady eyes, "Would you like to see Jem, Mr. Arthur?" She led me into the bedroom and I gently stroked his hair for a few minutes. I hesitated, "Will you take me home?" I said in a feeble voice. Scout obliged. She walked me all the way to my front porch, let go of my hand, and headed home. Tears streamed down my face as I recounted the events of that night. I broke from my turtle shell; I escaped my confinement, I was free.

7: I took the medal and rubbed its shiny surface with my fingers; the word "Winner" was engraved on the front. My pa came up to me and put it around my neck. "You did might fine job, son, mighty fine." The medal became the symbol of my potential, my dreams. I admired its gleaming exterior and the patriotic red, white, and blue of the ribbon attached to its crest. Whenever I was lacking motivation, the medal was the source of my inspiration and drive. All I had to do was touch the smooth gold once again and I would feel as if I could accomplish anything.

8: The watch was Miss Mabel's Grandpa's pocketwatch. She gently placed it in my hand and said, "Remember, you control your own time; time does not control you." I nodded meekly at the time, not fully understanding what she meant. The pocket watch was tarnished silver with signs of chipped paint and old age. There was a rusty knob on the side that could change the time that appeared on the watch. Over twenty years would pass before I would comprehend the importance of Miss Mable's wisdom. However, it was already too late. I had allowed time to control me. | "You control your own time,; time does not control you." -Miss Mabel

9: Will you take me home? | I've always felt out of place here in Maycomb County. Although I do have a house, I have never called the house my home. Home is where the heart belongs and I don't believe my heart belongs in Maycomb. So will you take me home? Take me to an open field, grass bending in the wind, endless sky stretching across the horizon. Home is someplace where I can finally spread my wings and fly off into the distance. When I leave, I will never look back.

10: I have lived in Maycomb for all of my life, but no one has ever acknowledged my existence. The townsfolk mock me and treat me as a freak of nature. What have I ever done to them to cause them to gear all this hatred towards me? I have never done them wrong. Their exclusion is slowly killing me psychologically and their actions must be put to a stop.After all, it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

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  • By: Allison T.
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  • Title: Lost Time Is Never Found Again
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  • Published: about 6 years ago