Tressa
3rd July 2008, 04:42 PM
"Rabbit"
She could hear them. That loud whisper always came first, trailed by hesitant giggles. The taunt would become louder, until it was a shriek, "Hey Rabbit! I’m talking to you!" followed by feet and fists and the laugher of those that were too fearful to punch but cruel enough to enjoy the hunt and catch.
Sometimes she could miss them. Or maybe they just weren’t all that interested in her some days. Out of school she’d run, hoping to get a head start on the almost two miles home (just a bit too close for the somewhat safer school bus).
The playground was in sight. Almost home. Through the playground and around the corner and she’d be ok. The end of the chase or the cage; to get caught in the playground was the worst. At least on the sidewalks the hunters were limited due to houses with adult eyes. Even the church yard wasn’t as bad. The playground was secluded, in between the fake city version of a forest and the jungle gyms, the merry go round that she’d be pushed under, the swings they’d throw into her stomach; their attentions were shorter than the sidewalk or church yard but more brutal.
Her book bag was heavy and the straps were giving way. Scrawny arms with little hands held on. Her books, even her homework, were her friends.
"Hey Rabbit! You can’t hop fast enough!" Running laughter; the hunters were in a pack today.
That name, that awful name. All because she trembled. It never stopped. She was sure she shuddered in her sleep. She hated it, hated the trembling, hated the name, hated them.
Finally she turned the corner just before the playground, out of sight for a moment. The old, high, wood fence strangled in vines at the playground entrance was warm from the sun. Her left leg was aching still, the bump had gone down and the cut had begun to scab but the pain was still there, causing her to limp. She knew she wouldn’t make it through the playground fast enough.
The dark wood creaked as she leaned against it and then suddenly gave way. She fell back and the fence closed and left the sun outside. A hand clamped over her mouth, catching her scream.
She turned and saw a small, round faced man kneeling before her, a gloved finger before his mouth on which was a little, closed smile. As he stood and walked away she realized he really wasn’t that small after all.
The only light was from a large fireplace. The room was tiny, barely furnished and smelled of old leaves. The fence, so close to the fake forest as well as the houses on the street, was actually part of a small windowless house. Close enough to the neighbors so that it’s fireplace smoke mingled with theirs yet so hut like and smothered in plant growth it appeared to be just a forgotten fence swallowed by the trees when walked near.
"Wow, you live here? How do you get your mail?"
The man’s shoulders shook slightly as he smiled that soft, closed mouthed smile again. He gestured for her to come closer and he pulled aside a small piece of wood. She could see the group of kids that had been chasing her wandering around the playground checking under the merry go round and in the public rest rooms. The biggest boy, the scary one they all followed, started yelling, "I know you can hear me Rabbit! You’re the ugliest **** I’ve ever seen and I’m going to get you tomorrow scared, little Rabbit!"
Her leg throbbed and her head hurt. Every day, every day, calling her ugly names she didn’t understand and then hitting her while telling her what they meant. "I hate him! I want him dead!"
The man knelt down and grabbed her arms and pulled her to him so they were forehead to forehead. She shuddered still and the boy’s "Rabbit!" echoed through her head. She dropped her book bag and held onto the man’s coat to steady herself.
His coat was earthy brown, like everything else in the room, warm and soft and crinkly. He smelled like the garden dirt her late Gamy would use in her vegetable beds. She said it was the best dirt, something called compost, filled with things living and dead to feed the plants.
He was rubbing her arms and breathing in deeply, almost as if he were trying to inhale her. She giggled and patted his shoulder. He looked at her, closing his eyes to tiny slits so that the fire didn’t reflect in them. She smiled and laughed and touched the short, curly hair on his bent head. It was the color of the sun and thicker than it looked, rough, wiry, like her Auntie’s dog.
He smiled that closed mouthed smile and looked down. The scab on her leg had opened and begun to bleed. His gloved hand enclosed her shin tightly for a few moments then released. When he moved his hand the cut had closed and her blood was on a pure white folded handkerchief in the palm of his hand.
She almost laughed, "Where did you get that?"
He turned his hand toward his face and raised it quickly before his mouth. For a moment she heard a fast, quiet slurping sound, like the kind she made when she finished her milk. When he turned his palm toward her the hankie was pure white again. He opened and closed his fist and his gloved hand was empty.
"Wow, magic!:" she cried and applauded.
He smiled that closed mouthed smile slightly and made a little bow. He took her by the arm and brought her across the room to a very small side room, more like a closet. The floor was covered in old fruit peelings, bones, and what was that? She leaned closer to see but the man picked her up and set her on a ladder. They climbed to the top and he opened a hatchway.
The gray afternoon light fell in as they got out onto the roof. Vines covered everything and the tress embraced the small hut like house, making it almost part of them.
Between the branches she could see the kids. Bored with their search for her they were heading out of the playground. They were heading toward her.
The man handed her a rock. It was black and shiny and she could see herself in it. He put his hand on her shoulder, pointed at the rock and then pointed to the large boy. The one who called her names. The one who hurt her the most. She felt the man squeeze her shoulder painfully and her constant trembling stopped. She looked at the rock and saw the boy there laughing, "Rabbit." She threw.
The rock hit the boy on his head and there was a sound like the crack of thunder and then blood rained from him. He collapsed next to the rock, its blackness so dark it didn’t mirror the red swirl becoming larger and larger around it and the boy.
Some of the kids screamed and ran. A few looked at the blood that had splattered on them and began to cry. One fell to the ground, as silent and still as the stone.
She had never thrown like that before but she didn’t care. He’d never call her names again. Never hurt her. Never make her bleed.
The man released her shoulder and she felt a tremor run down her arm. He smiled that closed mouthed smile, his round face beaming and his eyes sparkling almost hungrily.
He pushed her through the hatch roughly. When she got to the bottom of the ladder the fading light caught what she hadn’t seen in the bones earlier. A barrette. Ribbons with glitter. A small pocket knife, just like the one that boy had who wasn’t in class any more and the teachers whispered about, hoping they wouldn’t be overheard. The missing.
She ran but was barely into the small room when she felt a stabbing pain in her left leg. She folded up onto the floor and grabbed her leg. There was something sticking in it, covered in blood. Not sticking in, sticking out of it, out of her. It was her bone. More bones.
She could barely see him drop the bloody board. He knelt down and smiled a huge open mouthed smile and swallowed her scream.
The man sat before his fire, drinking warm red liquid and sucking the marrow from a bone while absentmindedly humming. He laughed quietly, "Rabbit."
Copyright 2008 TLB
She could hear them. That loud whisper always came first, trailed by hesitant giggles. The taunt would become louder, until it was a shriek, "Hey Rabbit! I’m talking to you!" followed by feet and fists and the laugher of those that were too fearful to punch but cruel enough to enjoy the hunt and catch.
Sometimes she could miss them. Or maybe they just weren’t all that interested in her some days. Out of school she’d run, hoping to get a head start on the almost two miles home (just a bit too close for the somewhat safer school bus).
The playground was in sight. Almost home. Through the playground and around the corner and she’d be ok. The end of the chase or the cage; to get caught in the playground was the worst. At least on the sidewalks the hunters were limited due to houses with adult eyes. Even the church yard wasn’t as bad. The playground was secluded, in between the fake city version of a forest and the jungle gyms, the merry go round that she’d be pushed under, the swings they’d throw into her stomach; their attentions were shorter than the sidewalk or church yard but more brutal.
Her book bag was heavy and the straps were giving way. Scrawny arms with little hands held on. Her books, even her homework, were her friends.
"Hey Rabbit! You can’t hop fast enough!" Running laughter; the hunters were in a pack today.
That name, that awful name. All because she trembled. It never stopped. She was sure she shuddered in her sleep. She hated it, hated the trembling, hated the name, hated them.
Finally she turned the corner just before the playground, out of sight for a moment. The old, high, wood fence strangled in vines at the playground entrance was warm from the sun. Her left leg was aching still, the bump had gone down and the cut had begun to scab but the pain was still there, causing her to limp. She knew she wouldn’t make it through the playground fast enough.
The dark wood creaked as she leaned against it and then suddenly gave way. She fell back and the fence closed and left the sun outside. A hand clamped over her mouth, catching her scream.
She turned and saw a small, round faced man kneeling before her, a gloved finger before his mouth on which was a little, closed smile. As he stood and walked away she realized he really wasn’t that small after all.
The only light was from a large fireplace. The room was tiny, barely furnished and smelled of old leaves. The fence, so close to the fake forest as well as the houses on the street, was actually part of a small windowless house. Close enough to the neighbors so that it’s fireplace smoke mingled with theirs yet so hut like and smothered in plant growth it appeared to be just a forgotten fence swallowed by the trees when walked near.
"Wow, you live here? How do you get your mail?"
The man’s shoulders shook slightly as he smiled that soft, closed mouthed smile again. He gestured for her to come closer and he pulled aside a small piece of wood. She could see the group of kids that had been chasing her wandering around the playground checking under the merry go round and in the public rest rooms. The biggest boy, the scary one they all followed, started yelling, "I know you can hear me Rabbit! You’re the ugliest **** I’ve ever seen and I’m going to get you tomorrow scared, little Rabbit!"
Her leg throbbed and her head hurt. Every day, every day, calling her ugly names she didn’t understand and then hitting her while telling her what they meant. "I hate him! I want him dead!"
The man knelt down and grabbed her arms and pulled her to him so they were forehead to forehead. She shuddered still and the boy’s "Rabbit!" echoed through her head. She dropped her book bag and held onto the man’s coat to steady herself.
His coat was earthy brown, like everything else in the room, warm and soft and crinkly. He smelled like the garden dirt her late Gamy would use in her vegetable beds. She said it was the best dirt, something called compost, filled with things living and dead to feed the plants.
He was rubbing her arms and breathing in deeply, almost as if he were trying to inhale her. She giggled and patted his shoulder. He looked at her, closing his eyes to tiny slits so that the fire didn’t reflect in them. She smiled and laughed and touched the short, curly hair on his bent head. It was the color of the sun and thicker than it looked, rough, wiry, like her Auntie’s dog.
He smiled that closed mouthed smile and looked down. The scab on her leg had opened and begun to bleed. His gloved hand enclosed her shin tightly for a few moments then released. When he moved his hand the cut had closed and her blood was on a pure white folded handkerchief in the palm of his hand.
She almost laughed, "Where did you get that?"
He turned his hand toward his face and raised it quickly before his mouth. For a moment she heard a fast, quiet slurping sound, like the kind she made when she finished her milk. When he turned his palm toward her the hankie was pure white again. He opened and closed his fist and his gloved hand was empty.
"Wow, magic!:" she cried and applauded.
He smiled that closed mouthed smile slightly and made a little bow. He took her by the arm and brought her across the room to a very small side room, more like a closet. The floor was covered in old fruit peelings, bones, and what was that? She leaned closer to see but the man picked her up and set her on a ladder. They climbed to the top and he opened a hatchway.
The gray afternoon light fell in as they got out onto the roof. Vines covered everything and the tress embraced the small hut like house, making it almost part of them.
Between the branches she could see the kids. Bored with their search for her they were heading out of the playground. They were heading toward her.
The man handed her a rock. It was black and shiny and she could see herself in it. He put his hand on her shoulder, pointed at the rock and then pointed to the large boy. The one who called her names. The one who hurt her the most. She felt the man squeeze her shoulder painfully and her constant trembling stopped. She looked at the rock and saw the boy there laughing, "Rabbit." She threw.
The rock hit the boy on his head and there was a sound like the crack of thunder and then blood rained from him. He collapsed next to the rock, its blackness so dark it didn’t mirror the red swirl becoming larger and larger around it and the boy.
Some of the kids screamed and ran. A few looked at the blood that had splattered on them and began to cry. One fell to the ground, as silent and still as the stone.
She had never thrown like that before but she didn’t care. He’d never call her names again. Never hurt her. Never make her bleed.
The man released her shoulder and she felt a tremor run down her arm. He smiled that closed mouthed smile, his round face beaming and his eyes sparkling almost hungrily.
He pushed her through the hatch roughly. When she got to the bottom of the ladder the fading light caught what she hadn’t seen in the bones earlier. A barrette. Ribbons with glitter. A small pocket knife, just like the one that boy had who wasn’t in class any more and the teachers whispered about, hoping they wouldn’t be overheard. The missing.
She ran but was barely into the small room when she felt a stabbing pain in her left leg. She folded up onto the floor and grabbed her leg. There was something sticking in it, covered in blood. Not sticking in, sticking out of it, out of her. It was her bone. More bones.
She could barely see him drop the bloody board. He knelt down and smiled a huge open mouthed smile and swallowed her scream.
The man sat before his fire, drinking warm red liquid and sucking the marrow from a bone while absentmindedly humming. He laughed quietly, "Rabbit."
Copyright 2008 TLB