Eat candy and find your happy place.
That was the first thought that raced to my mind as soon as the two women left. The first was nearly shaking and choking back her own words. It must be wrong to cry over someone you lost. Especially a small nine year old girl who was just there a minuet ago. One never expects for a nine year old to be darting down the street from a football game. Then again you never really see anyone going down the busy road these days. We are all too afriad to be snatched up like she was.
"What is her name?" I remember asking as the two big women stood in the doorway.
"Her name is ___" The first woman spoke softly, not as one would expect for her.
My friend stood beside me latched onto her mother like she was the next victim. I couldn't blame her, my purse was clutched so close to my stomach I feared that I was breaking something inside. My mother and God-mother stood silently as one wrote down what she heard and the other just nodded her head.
"What does she look like?"
"Small black girl, with cream pants and a yellow shirt." She demonstrated the height by lowering and lifting her hand slowly as if she already forgotten what the child looked like.
My mother wrote down the contact information and watched the women leave. I wanted to curl up into a little ball in the corner and be hidden. Just tuck my head between my knees and rock back and forth until everyone was gone. Sirens prevented the silence as we learned minuets later that the mother of the little girl collapsed on the ground. The roar of the heliocopter blades as the metal bird circled the area in large swoops swung over our building. Cars pulled up and left weaving the streets with thier once enemy the police. I wanted to lock the door and never let anyone out, never let anyone in.
I had heard that a child gets taken every minuet. I had hoped that it was just a rumor so that little kids stayed close to their parents sides. Had I known that it was true I wouldn't have felt so safe by myself all of the time.
Had I known that it could be so close to home, I would have prayed for strangers more often.
 Tattered W!ngs · Sun Sep 24, 2006 @ 08:49pm · 1 Comments |
