The Little Warrior
“Mummy, mummy, let me out! Let me out, mummy, let me out!” the little girl screamed as she pounded her tiny fists on the massive coal bin door. Locked in the chilly dank and dark room, she trembled with panic and terror at the thought of never being found.
She had been grabbed by the wrist, dragged down the cellar steps and across the cement floor to the dreaded dungeon. She fought all the way, little warrior that she was, but this served only to rile the mother even more. Not one part of her tiny body escaped the sharp blows wielded by the crazed, diabolic parent.
The heavy door creaked and moaned as it was pried open. An icy cold draft slapped her across the face. She gasped when it hit and lost control of her bladder. The mother shrieked and threw her inside like an old discarded bean bag. She fell to the floor, scraping both knees as the door slammed shut behind her.
What had she done to merit such punishment? Surely she was not that different from other kids her age, yet their mothers did not hit or throw things at them. Their mothers smiled a lot and patted them on the head and even hugged them at times.
The more she screamed and pounded, the more abandoned she felt. No one else was around. No one would be coming to her rescue. She screamed until she lost her voice. She pounded until her knuckles bled. Then suddenly she remembered the creepy crawlers.
Spiders and centipedes loved the damp darkness of the old coal bin. And they tended to keep to the walls. The room was narrow but she staggered backward to the near middle and wrapped her arms around herself, hoping that none of them would find her. She patted her upper arms in a vain attempt to console.
Shivering and mute, she tried to figure out what she had done this time to incur mummy’s wrath. But the whys and wherefores were beyond the grasp of her little five-year-old mind. She felt so alone, so forsaken. Heaving and gasping were the only sounds she was capable of making.
The flood of tears filling her eyes blurred her vision, making it impossible to see if any spiders were drawing near. Yet she knew they were. She sensed it. Like little heat-seeking missiles, they would find her. They would crawl onto her shoes and slither up her legs. And there would be many. The mother had fed her to them for supper.
Trembling and terror-stricken, she felt the first bite. The pain shot through her entire body. But now catatonic, the little warrior could not wage a defense. She was helpless against the onslaught. Then in that moment, all went silent. She could not hear, smell, taste, or feel. In that moment, fear and panic subsided.
All was peaceful as she looked down at herself from above. The little warrior had found a way to escape.
About Tina Frisco
Tina Frisco is an author, singer-songwriter, RN, activist, and shaman apprentice. Born in Pennsylvania USA, she attended nursing school in New York and lives in California. She began writing as a child and received her first guitar at age 14, which launched her passion for music and songwriting. She has performed publicly in many local venues. Her publishing history includes book reviews, essays, articles in the field of medicine, her début novel – Plateau: Beyond the Trees, and her children’s book – Gabby and the Quads.Tina is working on another novel to be released this year.
She enjoys writing, reading, music, dancing, arts and crafts, exploring nature, and frequently getting lost in working crossword puzzles.
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My thanks to Tina for this short story that is compelling and heart wrenching. It serves to remind us that not all children experience the joy of that very brief time in our lives.
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Thank you for dropping by today and as always your feedback is very welcome.. Sally