Créche: Isabella is a story about a young girl who wanders away from her institution bus during a field trip. She stumbles upon a girl of similar age in a nearby cave. Over the course of the story the girl turns out to be the lost sanity of Isabella. Finish Her Story! Complete the form to the right to add to "Créche: Isabella". The Gamer Mind will choose the best submissions to continue the story and add to the narrative. Be creative, have fun, and enjoy reading how the story plays out!
Crèche : Isabella
“Just leave her” Alan huffed, as he smoked his last cigarette to the filter. “She’s long gone by now, probably end up drowning in a river or eaten by wolves before we get to her. “And tell the asylum what? That we lost a fucking retard in the woods because we stopped to get high!” Snapped Jim. “Dude look, these things happen all the time. We tell them the little fucker got away after we stopped for lunch. We searched for hours and couldn’t find her and came back as soon as we could.” Alan had a point. In fact, Jim thought, it’ll be one less crazy kid to ferry around town. With any luck the kid will die deep in the woods and never be found. Not like anyone would care. These kids were wards of the state, all with mental issues. Most of their parents gave them up once the docs told them they’d be “mentally challenged” for life. Some of them had serious shit with long complicated medical names that Alan couldn’t even pronounce. Fuck’em, he thought. I drive them around; I’m not responsible for their wellbeing. If they wanted mommy or daddy around they shouldn’t be fucked up in the head.
Alan and Jim worked as drivers for the State of Massachusetts’ Crèche Asylum for Mentally Disabled Children. Both were responsible for driving a handful of children from the Asylum to the small town of Crèche for “recreation days”. Recreation day was the Asylums way of getting rid of the children for a few hours each week to raid their living quarters for contraband. The children got to see the outside world for a few hours and the caretakers got a chance to clean out any potentially hazardous items the children might be storing. Today was supposed to be Alan and Jim’s light day with only six children to transport into town. The day started off routine just as it always did. Alan would drive the first shift from the Asylum to Crèche, always taking the scenic route. The local farmers had cattle and horses, which fascinated the children and made them quiet. After the farms followed a lengthy stretch of highway into town. Between the Asylum and Crèche was a massive national park that stretched for miles. The day was ending early and Jim decided to pull the van over and light up a doobie to kill some time. He and Alan decided to trek about a hundred yards into the woods to avoid any marijuana smell to linger on the children. “Any of you make a move and you’ll be recommended for solitary,” Alan warned the children before leaving the van. Crèche Asylum was a daycare center for the mentally handicapped children in the eyes of the public, but a prison behind closed doors. Alan appreciated things like solitary because it showed the children repercussions for not behaving. Solitary was a room no bigger than a closet that the children were forced to remain in until they “learned their lessons”.
The simple truth was that the Crèche Asylum for Mentally Disable Children was a brilliant project presented by a headstrong narrow-minded Governor, Governor McNish. McNish used the idea of a child-friendly rehabilitation center to win the hearts and minds of potential voters. The project seemed like a good idea at the time, but within a few short years the Asylum began hemorrhaging funds. Crèche was becoming a burden on the state that Governor McNish could not ignore. He could close it down altogether and face public backlash that would have crippled his chances for reelection. No, the McNish could not have that. What he did was lessen the funding to the bare minimum, stick a cross on the front of the building and erase any type of taxing the initial Asylum was charged. The child population continued to swell and yet the staffing never increased, nor did the upkeep. Crèche remains operable under deplorable conditions trading rehabilitation for confinement because of necessity rather than intent. One of the drawbacks of poor funding from the state was the inability to hire stand-up responsible drivers for the children. Hence, Alan and Jim.
“It’s been four hours, at least,” Alan said scrutinizing his watch “and all we have to show for this search and rescue are six, err five, hungry and annoying loonies in the truck. Let’s get the fuck out of here before it gets dark and we lose anymore of ‘em.” Alan said. “Fine, what do we do about the others?” Asked Jim, conceding to Alan’s solution. “What about ’em?” “They are going to ask about ‘what’s her face’” Jim said looking out into the woods. Truth is he didn’t know her name; he was just fine with that. “Jesus Christ Jim we don’t tell them shit! What the hell is wrong with you?” Alan was becoming irate. “Listen pal, these little shits do what we tell them and when. Half of them are mute and the other half talk to themselves. We don’t owe them a goddamn explanation. Get your shit together and let’s go back.”
******************* “Any of you make a move and you’ll be recommended for solitary,” Alan warned the children before leaving the van. Isabella quietly smiled to herself at Alan’s threat to the rest of the children as he stared each of them in the eye before departing. Some of children made worrisome gasps while other just outright screamed in fear as Alan left the van. Most of the children at the asylum understood the word Solitary because they had either experienced it firsthand or knew someone who had. Isabella spent most of her time in solitary at Crèche.
Isabella noticed Alan had closed the door of the van and left the windows up. It was becoming unpleasantly humid inside the vehicle, a light sheen of sweat began to form on her forehead. She did not dare touch any parts of the vehicle though as she did not want suffer the same fate as the last boy who did. She see’s the boy every now and again, he is very recognizable with the scar across his face.
Looking out through the window of the van, Isabella noticed that the sun hadn’t been visible all day. The clouds that hung low in the sky were deep grey and threatened rain. Early afternoon resembled dusk, if it were not for the digital clock in the van radio console Isabella would have thought it was time for dinner.
Rain meant dark and gloomy weather for a couple of days at least, this made Isabella giddy with anticipation. She never liked the sun, nor did she appreciate good weather for that matter. While she never quite understood the basic principles of weather, it didn’t bother her too much that she couldn’t control it. The lingering storm approaching was an exciting expectancy for her. Isabella enjoyed everything about darkness and circumstances that kept her in there. Being alone in the dark was her serenity and for good reason. Being alone in the shadowy recesses of the asylum meant never being looked at quizzically, never being scrutinized, and most significantly it meant never having to hide what she was. In her mind, Isabella was everything and nothing. Nobody could hurt what they couldn’t see.
Surrounded by so many children and adults at the asylum made Isabella feel very uncomfortable. It was as if she were being crushed from the outside, as if all the air were slowly being siphoned out of her. Small cramped spaces filled with other people made her extremely uncomfortable to the point at which she would become uncontrollably feral. Her eyes would begin to shuffle to check all conceivable angles for threats, she’d begin scratching herself to the point of bloodshed, and finally she’d begin to shake violently eventually bringing upon a self-induced seizure. Before Isabella realized what was going on in the van, it was too late. Seated in the back seat of the Crèche recreational van an 11- year -old girl was shaking and foaming at the mouth. The other children continued their murmurs and guttural speeches to no one in particular, totally oblivious to her welfare. Isabella woke up in a cave.
Chapter One: Mirror
The pitter-patter of gently arose Isabella from her slumber. Shuffling on her behind, she unsuccessfully tried to avoid the worst of the downpour at the mouth of the cave. She was cold and damp but the cave was emitting a heat source deep within. The CRACK of thunder amplified by the acoustics in the cave made Isabella scream with terror and hide behind a large rock.
When Isabella had left Crèche she’d been wearing institutional clothing, a beige plain blouse with matching trousers and crocs. She now sported the same outfit with tears on both knees, minus one croc, and an added layer of fresh mud. Shivering with a combination of fear and cold, Isabella moved toward the source of heat. Deeper into the cave she noticed a flickering light against the wall at a slight right bend. Moving toward with caution she noticed the sound crackling and popping of a campfire. Another sound filled the air, an unfamiliar yet recognizable sound, humming. Humming from another female child. Hugging the bend of the cave Isabella peaked around and saw a small campfire and a young female lying next to it on the ground. The fire obscured her view and she could only make out the colors of the child’s clothes. They were the same as hers!