Sometimes I like to sit under the maple tree out back and watch the sky. Cloud people always look friendly. Like they’d never burn you with a cigarette or hold your head under water for too long. And they gots great big floaty beds. Soft and warm, like you could snuggle way deep in them and sleep and sleep and sleep.
Sometimes, when I’m really lucky, and Al’s had lots of beer, but not too much, he’s in a good mood and I’m allowed to sleep with Benny in her bed by the stove. Mama says I’m getting too long for it now, she says that my legs don’t even half fit. But I don’t care. Least ways it’s better than sleeping on the concrete floor in the basement. That’s been my room for almost six months. I gots me some cardboard and a old rug. I shiver all a the time, even with the rug. On bad nights, I sees the ghost on the stairs and keep my eyes wide all night long. Benny smells like under the porch and stinky old dog, but she’s warm and I push my hands deep into her long fur. When the ghost comes, she growls and scares it away.
Al don’ like kids much. He says we eat too much and are ‘spensive. He tells Pops that I grow and grow, and keepin’ a shirt on my back costs—way—a lot. Pops used to send us bags and bags of clothes, but Al said he wasn’t havin’ it. Like we’s a charity case or something, he said. Money’s fine, he said. He says, money—we can always use. For food and such. But all I see when the money comes is too much beer and never no new shirts neither.
Sometimes, when I’m sittin’ under that tree, I watch the clouds and see fluffy bowls of ice cream. My tummy growls then and when I push down on it I feel the bones under my raggedy old shorts stick way out. Mrs. Avery, the lady next door, she leaves bowls of Cheerios with real milk out in her back porch. She does it all sneaky like, cause of the charity. I pretend to not like her, like I’m a scared of her. I tell Al that her eye, the one that’s blind and gots a grey swarmy thing on it, is like a witch’s eye. Al don’ care, he makes me go to her house every morning and get her paper and take out her trash. Right neighbourly, he says.
Mrs. Avery’s kid got killed somewhere’s people are fightin’. Over God knows what, she says. Oil or such. I secretly think it’s diamonds. Cause diamonds is pretty and sparkly and they costs a way lot. More than stinky ole oil. If I was sent over to the fightin’, I’d sneak out in the middle of the night and look for them diamonds. Then I’d be rich and I’d buy me a big ole bed and Mrs. Avery a new one of those things that helps her walk better. The one she gots has a broken wheel thingy on it. Then I’d give Mama the rest of my diamond money so she could kick Al to the curb. Mama says, we need him cause what would we do without a man around the house. I know what I’d do. I’d sleep in my own room, for one.
Sometimes, I hear Mama crying and telling Al, no. Usually it’s only when I seen the ghost an I’m too scared to stay in the basement. So’s I sneak up the stairs and sit with Benny. Benny don’ mind. But if Al didn’t say I could stay with her I have to make sure I don’ fall asleep. Once I done it, and he got so mad he throwed me into the basement and locked the door for a long, long time. Mama says we need a man around the house to fix things and keep us safe. But I only ever seen Al break things, and I only ever feel safe when he’s not home. When I sit with Benny, I put my hands over my ears so as not to hear Mama.
Mama says that I don’ remember what it was like before Al came to live with us, but I do. I remember my own warm bed and cuddling with Mama in the mornings. Now my room is a “guest room.” It’s for just-in-case Al’s mama comes to visit. She never done it yet. I remember eating breakfast and supper, and watching TV, and a new red dress and going to watch a parade. I remember Mrs. Avery waving to her boy when he left for work in the mornings. I remember playing with the ring on Mama’s finger and how it sparkled in the light. She said it was from my daddy and costed more’n the house we was in.
Sometimes, I think of that ring. How if Mama hadn’t up and lost it, I’d take it and sell it. Then we’d have lots of money. Sometimes the clouds are dark and scary and there’s no ice cream or fluffy beds. When that happens, I usually crawl under the porch. It’s warm and dry there and I don’ mind the spiders. Sometimes, I think about Mrs. Avery’s son. If he hadn’t up and got killed, he could come over and fix things for Mama and tell Al to go to the curb. Sometimes I dream about Cheerios and real milk and my tummy doesn’t hurt so much. Sometimes, I think of the ghost and see my Daddy’s sad face on it, then Benny comes over and we cuddle until the storm passes.
Photo Credit
Photo from Flickr – some rights reserved
Read more in this series:
Sad to think how many children and grown adults can identify with your character. If just one person reads this and feels they are not alone, it is so worthwhile. A statement for the rest of society to step it up. Well done Gab!
A sad story that brought out many emotions…left me yearning for a happy ending for this little girl..great job
Well… it has been a while since I read fiction. Such a sad story. Very well put together.
Another great story, Gab. The voice in this piece is excellent. More, please.
There has to be a sequel…please! I need to know what happens next. I wanted to go to her house and rescue her or call CAS. Although the story is fiction, we know there are children who really are living under very similar conditions. You nailed it! It seemed so real and you have me wanting to read on. Excellent story Gab!
Thanks! I’m going to do this in four pieces. The next one will be about Mrs. Avery.
Amazing talent you have my friend….must have been that great ATIKOKAN high school education 🙂 I am hoping for a sequel and want that little girl to have her room and her mommy back …great story
Very captivating story. I loved the humanity of Mrs. Avery, the comfort of Benny and the resilient spirit of the little girl in the face of a harsh reality.
Very well done. Got a bit of a deep south / To Kill a Mockingbird vibe from it.
I’m not sure what upset me more: the girl’s circumstances or the fact that she takes it all in stride because, to her, this is normal life. That “ghost” I find particularly creepy.
Oh my heart! This brought tears to my eyes. I know this is fiction but it captured the reality of so many children! Very emotional read.
I want to thank everyone for your kind words of encouragement. They mean so much. As a writer, sometimes it is hard to put a piece of yourself out there. I’m feeling the love.
so amazing! I love the little girl as the narrator, as much as it is a sad tale it is extremely powerful. I can’t wait to read more!
Great story Gab, I especially like what isn’t being said. Kids are way more perceptive than we give them credit for, and you show that so well with this sad nameless child.
This is another must read! Gab is a talented author and I can’t wait for her next piece!
Thanks Gab for this perspective. Under porches and fluffy clouds now have special meanings.
Wow, so heartbreaking. Beautifully written in the child’s own voice, but just heartbreaking.
I’m interested in what happens next… I hope the little girl finds that lost diamond ring!
A sad, yet riveting glimse into a life behind closed doors. Makes you wonder what’s really going on in your neighbourhood and how much childhood innocence actually still exists in this world of ours.
I want more…and a happy ending for that little girl. I need happy endings for all the children out there that don’t have ‘enough’! I like that you wrote from her perspective and level.
That short story had me captivated! The little girl’s pain was palpable…..I felt it through her words, what she saw & heard. Great piece Gab!
Although this was a short story the writer, in just a few words, managed to intensely articulate and draw you in to the pain and sadness this young girl was enduring. Sheer talent as a writer to be able to make the reader feel that gut wrenching pain. The story leaves you wanting much more.
Wow, Gab, I could see this hanging on the wall at the Women’s Shelter I work at. You captured so much in so few words. I too crave for more. I would love to see Mama get the help she needs to stand up to Al for her little girl and herself, then see them both blossom! (I know, life is not a fairy tale)…..
That poor little girl, I hope you write more about her.
Great read!
I feel for this poor girl and see her Momma is just as helpless. It reminds me of how today’s society doesn’t do enough to protect children. And now……. I need to know how it ends now. Great read….left me wanting more.
Wow makes me want to read more to see that the little girl is saved from her horrid life and she gets love & peace in her lifetime. Emotional.
Well done!
Excellent Gab! Again, I always feel that when a piece makes wicked emotions rise within me – it is really good and powerful. Without a doubt this accomplished it. Keep doing what you do!
She comes alive even through the sadness. I want her to be happy…..
beautiful piece!
❤️
Well written! It was sad yet sweet and left me wanting to hear more from this little girl!
Wow. I want the story to continue. I want more Cheerios and milk. I want Al to suffer as this child has suffered through neglect, hunger and a basic disregard for the needs of a human.
I really enjoyed reading this! Great Job!
I enjoyed this, great quick read!
Want so much more of this. Great read that left me longing for more!
Very evocative! And, for that very reason, hard to read. I like the voice you’ve used for the child (and the way she expresses herself).
Really enjoyed this story. Thanks gab for posting it. I had a lot of empathy for the poor little girl.
Awesome post Gab!
Great to have you back!
Cheers,
Gil
Excellent story. Very captivating. Uncertain if it is a true story or fiction.
Hi Charalee,
It’s fiction 🙂