Jaxon’s eyes flickered into consciousness.

The chocolate orbs, still half asleep, searching for

something familiar in the strange room. The brown orbs lingered on a strange red, white and blue
fabric rectangle. The strange meaty smell pierced the bulbous mushroom on his face while the
unfamiliar ‘clinking’ sounds entered the dinner plates on each side of his head.
The wooden landing creaked as Jaxon explored his new surroundings. As he entered the
kitchen, the people sitting on the other side of the table could only see the black mop upon his head.
“Hello,” the male babbled in some weird language, “We are the Smiths.”
 “We will be looking after you for a while,” continued the female in the same language, “I am Mary.”
 “And I am John. Do you speak any English?”
 “Who are you and where am I? Do you speak any Miriwoong?” inquired Jaxon, a more familiar
language coming out his mouth. 
 “Ummm, okay. It looks like we’ll have to teach you some English,” concluded John, in English, “Here
is some food.” He picked up some scrambled eggs and bacon with his fork and popped it in his
mouth. “Food,” he explained slowly. 
 “F-f-food?” repeated Jaxon, in English. 
 “That’s right,” replied John.
The children in the village were playing when the gas creating machine pulled up. No-one,
not even the elders, knew what it was. Some big white men stepped out of it. “We’re taking them
away,” shouted one of the men, motioning to Jaxon and his friend Digby. It was the first time he had
heard that strange language. The strange men’s white, clammy hands were rough as they picked him
and Digby up. “Jaxon!” screamed his mother as he was taken. He was thrown in the metal thing on
wheels so quickly. He never even got to say goodbye. He didn’t know what had happened to Digby
either. He hoped that he was alright.
Two weeks after first waking up in the strange room, Jaxon was still not used to it. He had,
however, gotten used to eating a ‘normal’ breakfast. He especially liked the crispy meat strips that
the Smiths called ‘bay-kun’. “We,” John motioned to himself, “Are going to buy,” holding out some
cash, “You,” pointing to Jaxon, “Some new clothes.” John finished by pulling at his shirt. Jaxon
nodded his head only half understanding. If it meant that he was getting some fabric things that he
wasn’t swimming in, he was happy.
Digby had been his best friend since they were born. So naturally, Jaxon knew everything
there was about him. Especially his face. Which is why it was strange when Jaxon couldn’t shake the
feeling that he had seen Digby while buying ‘klohthz’. The boy had looked at him but didn’t show any
sign of recognition. Weird.
“I find what happened to Digby,” mumbled Jaxon one morning. 
 “What?” replied Mary.
 “I find what happened to Digby,” Jaxon repeated. 
 “That’s nice.”
 Later that night, Jaxon heard the Smiths talking about him and ‘kloens’. Whatever that meant.