BONUS POST: Just a Girl

The girl stood in the garden, gazing at a bird who hopped from spot to spot, pecking at bugs in the weeds. She often wondered what it would be like to be a bird.

“This garden will not harvest itself,” her father said without looking at her.

Their garden was small, and the soil too rocky, but somehow they grew a few vegetables to supplement the fish they caught in their pond.

The girl always wondered how her father was certain she was daydreaming instead of working. As far as she knew, he barely ever looked at her at all.

His back stiffened when she sniffled and his words were harsh. “Quit being so damn sensitive and do your work.”

The girl did her best to stifle any tears that might flow. It would do her no good to get her father upset. She’d learned that lesson the hard way many years ago.

“Get some water and make sure you get the vegetables good.”

At once, she grabbed the bucket and hurried to the pond before he could yell at her again. At the edge of the water, she stared at her reflection. She had fiery hair just like her dad. That was the only feature that stood out in the gently rippling water.

She had never seen the blue of her eyes or the rosiness in her cheeks.

Forgetting all about the water she was supposed to fetch, she smiled a little as a group of butterflies flitted about. It was like they were putting on a show only for her.

She liked vibrant colors like the butterflies, the flowers, and her old, yellow shirt with a hole in the back.

Her favorite color was bright, bright pink.

After finally getting the sloshing bucket to the garden and finishing her chores, she wandered off. But not too far.

She wasn’t allowed beyond the forest. Once in a while, she tried to think about what might be on the other side of the thick trees and rolling hills. She’d never been away from home before, so her imagination was limited.

She was just a girl who didn’t know anything different than her home, the hard life she had, and her father. She didn’t even know her life was hard. It was just… life.

Father was a shadow of the man he once was. Pale, gaunt, and broken. Once motivated by the need to protect the girl, now, he clung to her to keep himself safe.

The girl sat in her chair as Father lit a fire. She had to be careful how she sat because one leg was loose. She wished she had long pants because when she stood, the flaking paint chipped off and stuck to the backs of her legs and itched.

This was the worst part of the day for the girl. Once the fire was lit, Father would blow out the lanterns. The little shack would be drenched in shadows and she would crawl to the spot furthest from the door and unroll her sleeping bag that smelled like mildew. The plywood floor was hard but it was all she’d ever known.

She wanted to sleep by the warm fire but Father wouldn’t allow it. He wanted her far from the door in case anyone barged in. The way he spoke about “them” filled the girl with dread. She hoped “they” would stay far away because “they” would harm her and her father.

The only assurance she had was that Father slept nearest to the door on a couch he’d made from discarded milk crates. He would tell her again how dangerous the world was and how there were “others” who would do anything they could to hurt her.

Then he would remind her that as long as she was with him, she would be safe.

She only hoped the night would soon be over.

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