Sidney Louis Johnson was a very special writer. Everything he wrote came true. He was sitting in his attic study looking out the window on May 2. It was a nice breezy spring day and he had the window open. It was 11 in the morning and it was sunny out. The green spring colors flooded his eyes.
He had a pad of yellow legal paper in front of him and a pen in his hand. It was a bic pen. Nothing fancy. He liked simplicity. He wrote a sentence and then looked out the window.
“The little pale boy with yellow shorts and a green shirt walked down Maple Rd. bouncing a red rubber ball. He passed #312 and looked up at the attic window. There was a man looking out and his face had a kind of expectancy that the boy didn’t understand.”
The critical voice inside Sidney’s head said, “What is the point of that sentence? Why are you writing about little boys bouncing red rubber balls?”
“I like little boys. I like red rubber balls,” answered Sidney.
The cynical voice in his head said, “Are you some kind of pedophile or something?”
Sidney smiled, “Pedophile as in lover of children? Yes I guess so. Maybe I should give him a dog?”
The cynic and the critic both groaned.
But Sidney ignored them and looked out the window. The little boy looked up at him with such sweetness that it made Sidney happy inside. He wrote another sentence on the pad and then looked again out the window.
A little puppy had bounded out of the grass and frolicked at the boy’s feet, jumping up and nipping at the boy’s fingers. The boy smiled and threw the ball into Sidney’s front yard. The dog, tail wagging, ran after it.
Sidney’s hand and pen were very busy now and he kept writing more sentences and more words until lunch time. At 12:30 there was a knock on the attic door and Sidney laid down his pen after he wrote, “The little boy died quietly with his little dog in his arms. He was never seen again.” He always had to kill off his characters so that he didn’t add to the problem of overpopulation of the world.
He went down the attic stairs to eat a ham sandwich with his wife Sarah who was perfect in every way.