Lost and Found
The school sat in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Faded posters still clung to a few of the walls. A handful of never-claimed items still lay in the old lost property box. Some said that on moonlit nights, you could still hear children's voices echoing inside.
Sam had never been one of them, and on this cold wet night, having missed the last bus out of the village, the abandoned school seemed his best bet for shelter.
He found an unlocked window that could be prised open, and climbed inside. It was dry, and cold and bare. Sam closed the window behind him, settled on the ground, and leaned back against the wall.
A draft ruffled a loose piece of paper, leaving it to flap tiredly from the last staple holding it to the wall. The wind whined a little about the corners of the building, and hitched, just a little, like a muffled sob.
Just the wind. Sam sighed, shifted on the hard concrete, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, there was a little child standing beside him, crying in the soft, hopeless, exhausted way of someone who has been crying for a long time and sees no way out of their situation.
Sam groaned, stiff and cold and tired, and mumbled, still half asleep, "What do you want?"
"I want my Okky," the child sniffed. "One of the big boys stole him and I never got him back."
"And you want me to help look?"
The child stared at Sam, mouth open, tears dying on their cheek. "You.... want to help me? You're not ... leaving?"
"Not right now, anyway." He heaved himself to his feet, and held out a hand. "Where did you last see .... Okky, was it?
The child took it, icy fingers clinging to his warm ones, and he shivered. "This way." They led him to the staff office and pointed through the doorway to a box. "I'm not allowed in. Only grown ups are."
"Well," Sam said. "I guess that's me." He let go of that cold, cold hand, and walked though the doorway and over to the lost property box. There, on the top, grey with dust, was a small stuffed octopus. He held it up for the child to see, and the small face lit up.
"Well then." He carried it out of the staff office and offered it to the child.
Small hands clasped the toy, hugging it tightly, and then the child - faded into nothing.
Not even the wind remained.
