- The story follows a young boy who escapes his controlling mother by building elaborate Lego worlds in his bedroom. His mother demands control over every aspect of his life and tears him away from his Lego creations each night. - During one act of rebellion, the boy refuses to destroy his Lego world. In response, his mother kicks it apart in front of him. The boy's creations become darker as he seeks independence from his mother's control. - Everything comes to a head when the boy refuses his mother's demands to clean his room. He throws Lego at her and declares his independence, signaling a change in their relationship going forward.

1. ‘Boy Creator’
- Emma Ferguson
- Brick by Brick is the story of a young boy and his peculiar
obsession with building his own
Lego world to escape the mental clutches of his control freak mother.
- Young boy (name to be decided): A young introverted
schoolboy who spends most of his time in his bedroom
building an imaginary world as a form of control due to the
control that has been taken away from him by his controlling
mother.
- Mother: An extremely controlling mother figure who demands
control over ever aspect of both her own and her son’s life
such as what he wears and how his room is arranged etc.
It’s a normal day in the middle of a normal neighbourhood. A young boy is
sitting on the floor of his bedroom playing with his Lego like any other
young boy would be at that time. Except this isn’t just playtime for this
particular boy, it is a way of life and all that he knows and has known for
some time. He is building his own little world and becoming completely
immersed in it until a shrill call from downstairs snaps him back to
reality with an abrupt harshness.
“It’s dinner time, make sure you wash your hands properly and put your
protective bib over your uniform.” The same reminder he had received every
day since he was old enough to get himself ready for dinner. Moving slowly,
still dazed from his hasty return to reality the boy leaves his protective
world and makes his way down the pristine hallway to the bathroom where he
steadily washes his hands in the spotless white sink before retrieving his
protective bib with a sigh from the airing cupboard on his way out of the
bathroom and into the dining room.
“Don’t drag your feet dear. Come on now hurry up and sit down or your
dinner will be cold, growing boys like you need their energy.”
Dinner was a quiet affair with the boy still partially immersed in his own
little world, planning what he will create once he is excused and allowed
to return to his room. He politely answers the questions of his mother as
he has been reminded to time and time again.
“No one likes a little boy without manners.”
In bed that night he lay there and contemplated a life where he could run
and play with the other children at school without his mother forbidding
it, a life where he could make friends and could go to their houses after
school without his mother forbidding it for fear of her son being in the
hands of strangers. A sudden wave of resentment rushes over him
unexpectedly before he quickly told himself that it was his mother’s job to
protect him and that he should be grateful for her efforts. And with that
he fell asleep to enter his own world yet again in his dreams.
He is once again torn from his own world by his own personal alarm clock
standing over him with that wide smile on her face, the one that always
showed just that bit too much teeth and scared him though he was not quite
sure why.

2. “Wakey wakey rise and shine darling.”
Under his mother’s watchful eye for fear he may have suddenly forgotten how
to dress himself correctly, the boy prepared himself for a day of school
while reminding his mother that most other children did not require their
mother to talk them 20 metres down the road to school. Upon hearing this,
his mother swiftly reminds him that there she simply cannot permit him to
cross the road on his own and that there are bad people out there and she
doesn’t want anyone to take her little boy away from her.
And so every morning and night repeated itself in such a fashion, ever
under the watchful eye of his mother the young boy began to find it harder
to remind himself that his mother was only trying to protect him and had
his best interests at heart. One rainy night the boy decided that he no
longer thought it necessary to wear the protective bib over his jumper for
dinner as it had been months since he had spilt anything on himself whilst
eating. Upon observing this, his mother, momentarily stunned at this subtle
disregard of her authority, simply retrieved the bib herself and put it on
the young boy, blaming his sudden change of temperament on an illness or
tiredness. After this the boy conformed perfectly with his mother’s
guidelines for the next few days until she was sure that his defiance was
simply down to an uncommon occurrence.
Five nights after the bib incident the boy became tired of having to
destroy what he put so much time and effort into creating every night due
to his mother’s wishes for his bedroom floor to be spotless by the end of
the day. With this in mind he decided that he was not going to destroy
today’s world, one that he was particularly proud of, and he was simply
going to move it to the corner of the room so it was not creating an
obstruction for his mother. After doing so he got into bed and waited
patiently for his mother to come upstairs and tell him a bedtime story.
“Is there some reason that you have been unable to carry out the one simple
task that I ask of you before you got into bed dear?”
The boy tried to politely explain that he had spent so long creating this
construction that he did not want to destroy it just yet. After he explains
himself his mother slowly walks over to the construction in the corner of
the room and smiles sweetly at her son.
“Disobeying your mother’s rules for whatever reason is bad manners darling,
and no one likes a boy with bad manners.”
And with that she kicked the structure with such force that it vibrated
momentarily before coming apart completely and falling to the ground with a
loud crash. In the steely silence that followed the boy sat on his bed
looking at his mother with an almost inquisitive stare. As his mother set
about tidying up the mess he quietly lay down and, for the first time, let
himself become angry.
These acts of rebellion grew grander and grander in scale as the young
boy’s mind separated itself completely from the inherent dependency on his
mother and her controlling nature. In direct correlation with her decline
in control over her son, the mother fell deeper and deeper into despair,
wondering why she was losing her little boy when she had made every effort
to ensure that he would remain hers forever.
The boy’s creations also became darker. No more were his constructions
bright and colourful with exact symmetry, they were now dark and twisted

3. structures. He no longer took the effort to convince himself that he could
not resent his mother for wanting to have control over him as he now no
longer felt the need to be controlled. He knew that he was ready to finally
grow up and his main focus became convincing his mother of this. He spent
all of his time in his room as always, however, he no longer found comfort
in isolating himself to his own little world, it no longer provided the
same sanctuary.
It all came to head one eventful Saturday. The boy was in his room as
always surrounded by the dark world, which he now chose to immerse himself,
in when there was a knock at the door.
“Darling it’s tidy up time.”
With a stony face the boy refused to be torn from his new world and simply
continued on as if there had been no sound at the door. Due to the abnormal
lack of response his mother chose to go in and see if everything was ok.
Upon her entry she gasped and stood in the doorway for several moments with
her hand clamped over her mouth. She demanded an answer as to why he was
ignoring her and why he had chosen to desecrate his room in such a way (for
in his sinister stupor the boy had emptied the contents of his wardrobe in
order to create a fort for his world). The only answer these demands
received was a stare from a young boy who was very much on the edge.
“Well? I asked you a question. I thought I raised you better than this.”
With this the boy slowly raised himself onto his feet and stood facing his
mother with his head slightly cocked to the left. His mother repeated her
demands several times becoming more and more exasperated each time, feeling
her last shreds of control slipping away from her reach. The boy slowly
began to collect the Lego up into his arms and then stood once again facing
his mother. There was a momentary moment of relief for her as she briefly
believed that he had finally come to his senses and was making an attempt
to tidy his room. This was short lived.
After a loud clattering and a blood curdling shriek the boy appeared in the
doorway between his room and the hallway. Feeling the last chains of his
mother finally falling off of him, he stepped through the doorway, knowing
that everything would be different from now on.
As if to answer one final thought the boy turned around to look back
through the doorway at the woman sat covered in a pile of Lego on his
bedroom floor.
“No one likes a woman with bad manners.”