Delta40
12-22-2010, 09:42 AM
(old story turned up during a clean out)
11 year old Anna was poked roughly in the chest by the fat boy wearing the red striped t-shirt. ‘Witches don’t cackle you little squirt and besides, I don’t even believe in them.’ It was recess at Parkwood Primary School and Anna was narrating her latest adventures to an audience of wide-eyed, gummy-toothed third graders. Anna, taken hostage by a witch called Pookie Grubers to the Wychwood Forest (naturally), seemed almost believable, as she waxed lyrical on the details, her sweeping gestures giving strength to the verity of her statements. ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ escaped from the small circle as Anna’s story unfolded into colourful realism. Her entry into a life of drudgery, the eating of things uneatable, Pookie’s cruel magic not to mention the awful smell and finally, Anna’s great escape on Pookie’s broomstick were daily installments in the quadrangle. The witch had cackled in the distance that she would seek Anna out eventually and wreak her vengeance upon her no matter how long it took.
That’s when the fat kid stood up and poked Anna. Everyone waited with baited breath as the little girls eyes flashed dangerously. ‘You’re wrong Nathan Meyers; I heard the Grubers cackle a million times while I was her slave so take that back now or you’ll pay!’ Nathan laughed and sought the support of the audience. ‘She’s a liar! None of you bozo’s believe in witches do ya? Coz if you do, you’re pretty stupid. It’s just a dumb story that she’s made up’. Still everyone remained uncomfortably silent. Even if it wasn’t true, the students knew the tale had lost nothing in the telling since Anna gave wonderful recitals but nobody was willing to stand up to Nathan and tell him that. Nathan danced around Anna like a performing ballerina. ‘I won’t take it back miss pookie gooby slave, so whatcha gonna do about it? Hit me with your scrubbing brush or are you gonna fly away on your magic broomstick?’ Anna waited, hands by her side; fists clenching and unclenching until Nathan had tired of dancing and came to a stop. Then she smiled at him sunnily and replied ‘No Nathan, you’re going to die’ and to the stunned gasps of everyone including Nathan, stepped out of the ring as the siren went.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon, whenever the eyes of Anna and Nathan met, he behaved like a buffoon, clutching his heart and keeling over in the middle of class, even inviting students to his funeral. Eventually, Mr Higgins sent him to the bench for ‘time out’ plus 10 minutes after school. Once seated, Anna smiled at him serenely and mouthed ‘you’re dead’. At the end of class, Anna collected her things and walked past him but as an afterthought turned to him instead and in lilting tones murmured ‘Goodbye Nathan’ and exited the room. Nathan stuck out his tongue, scratching his armpit like a monkey. He did not quite know why, but Anna put the fear of God into him. However, everyone knew girls sucked and he wouldn’t let her know that. Ten minutes later and Nathan was free as a bird so he caught up with some mates at the local deli. He didn’t give Anna another thought.
At home, Anna sat in her room. Apart from the bed, drawers and side table, it was bare. The walls were unpainted and smeared with years of grime. Perhaps there used to be wallpaper as the walls seemed very rough but Anna didn’t know. The floorboards were unpolished and in need of some care but what was particularly absent from this child’s room was toys. There existed none of any sort from teddy bears to dolls to jigsaws to gameboys. Just old furniture in an old room for a young girl. Her family wasn’t made like the families Anna had seen on TV, but it was her family nevertheless and she was loyal. Without further ado she rose from her reverie and went to see what food was in the pantry that she could prepare for dinner.
As Nathan made to leave the deli, one of his mates said, ‘Sorry that you’re gonna die Nate. I mean we really like ya and all that so we’ll come to your funeral no worries about that’ One of Nathan’s friends nudged him. ‘Yeah and we’ll have a whopper of a party in your memory too with all your fave food and drinks’. His mates were giggling. Nathan told them to get stuffed and walked home. It was Thursday and his family were going to visit his aunt Hilda. Nathan would get a hiding if he was late.
While Anna cooked, her mother lay in bed most of the time because she was ill. Anna had tried to understand exactly what was wrong with her mother but she would either lapse into tears, turn her back on Anna or verbally abuse her. All without getting out of bed. As children will do, Anna was convinced it was something she had done wrong and sought to make things better by offering to do chores around the house. Now, she did virtually everything, even to cleaning the toilet. None of this cheered her mother though, who continued to be ill and surround herself with an assortment of bottles, both prescribed and courtesy of Liquourland. There were times when Anna could not bear to enter her Mother’s room because of the stench that would emanate from it. Nathan Meyers did not know it, but he had no right to speak the way he did.
In the evening when her mother was either asleep or passed out, a weary Anna lit a candle in the kitchen and in a little bowl mixed some dried herbs from the spice rack. She muttered some gibberish under her breath then looked out the window at the full moon and openly wept ‘I hope you die Nathan!’ Afterwards she tidied up and put herself to bed.
At school the next morning an early assembly was called by the principal Mrs Hedgwick to make a special announcement. It seemed the Meyers family was on their way back from a social visit late last night when they were hit at an intersection by another vehicle who failed to see the stop sign. Young Nathan was killed outright. The rest of the family remained in a stable condition.
The school was abuzz with the news of Nathan’s demise, his last thoughts and actions speculated upon by a bloodthirsty group who knew no better. One of them perked up and reminded the rest about Anna. ‘She said he was going to die and now he’s dead. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ Everyone cottoned on to the idea at once. ‘I saw her in class yesterday, telling him he was going to die and just smiling at him you know, like she was crazy’ Another kid joined in the feeding frenzy of Nathan’s death. ‘Well let’s ask her if she had anything to do with it’. There was some reluctance but Stewart Biggins had no issue with talking to Anna and he was frankly curious.
Anna sat alone casting rocks upon the ground, studying them and then re-casting them. ‘What are you doing Anna?’ ‘I’m reading the past present and future. The rocks tell me things when I ask them questions. She looked up at Stewart and smiled innocently. ‘Everyone wants to know if you caused Nathan’s death’. Anna picked up her stones one by one, closed her eyes, shook them and tossed them across the playground. ‘Mmmm looks like the answer is yes, Nathan is dead because of me’. Stewart took two steps back as he realized the power of this horror before him ‘But why Anna?’ The young girl looked resolutely ahead. ‘He should not have spoken about my family the way he did.’ Everyone had heard the stories about Pookie Grubers but Stewart could not know that there was any connection between the fantasy witch and Anna’s life at home. He gladly left her alone with her stones.
That night, Anna cried bitterly over the death of Nathan. She knew just like her mother’s illness, it was all her fault and that God must really hate her. It didn’t matter how many times she prayed and said sorry to Him, her mother was still sick and now Nathan was dead because she had wished it. The young child felt a never ending ache inside but she knew of one way she could manage to walk through a world that seemed to be without warmth. Story telling.
A few children avoided Anna after Nathan’s death. However, most continued to be drawn to her for the colourful tales she would tell about the evil Pookie and the things Anna would have to do in order to free herself from the witch’s awful grasp. Her audience never ceased to be amazed at Anna’s creative mind and some wondered idly where her inspiration came from. If anyone challenged her, Anna would give them that look and repeat to the macabre delight of all, the strange fate of Nathan. She was after all, a very powerful storyteller.
The End
11 year old Anna was poked roughly in the chest by the fat boy wearing the red striped t-shirt. ‘Witches don’t cackle you little squirt and besides, I don’t even believe in them.’ It was recess at Parkwood Primary School and Anna was narrating her latest adventures to an audience of wide-eyed, gummy-toothed third graders. Anna, taken hostage by a witch called Pookie Grubers to the Wychwood Forest (naturally), seemed almost believable, as she waxed lyrical on the details, her sweeping gestures giving strength to the verity of her statements. ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ escaped from the small circle as Anna’s story unfolded into colourful realism. Her entry into a life of drudgery, the eating of things uneatable, Pookie’s cruel magic not to mention the awful smell and finally, Anna’s great escape on Pookie’s broomstick were daily installments in the quadrangle. The witch had cackled in the distance that she would seek Anna out eventually and wreak her vengeance upon her no matter how long it took.
That’s when the fat kid stood up and poked Anna. Everyone waited with baited breath as the little girls eyes flashed dangerously. ‘You’re wrong Nathan Meyers; I heard the Grubers cackle a million times while I was her slave so take that back now or you’ll pay!’ Nathan laughed and sought the support of the audience. ‘She’s a liar! None of you bozo’s believe in witches do ya? Coz if you do, you’re pretty stupid. It’s just a dumb story that she’s made up’. Still everyone remained uncomfortably silent. Even if it wasn’t true, the students knew the tale had lost nothing in the telling since Anna gave wonderful recitals but nobody was willing to stand up to Nathan and tell him that. Nathan danced around Anna like a performing ballerina. ‘I won’t take it back miss pookie gooby slave, so whatcha gonna do about it? Hit me with your scrubbing brush or are you gonna fly away on your magic broomstick?’ Anna waited, hands by her side; fists clenching and unclenching until Nathan had tired of dancing and came to a stop. Then she smiled at him sunnily and replied ‘No Nathan, you’re going to die’ and to the stunned gasps of everyone including Nathan, stepped out of the ring as the siren went.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon, whenever the eyes of Anna and Nathan met, he behaved like a buffoon, clutching his heart and keeling over in the middle of class, even inviting students to his funeral. Eventually, Mr Higgins sent him to the bench for ‘time out’ plus 10 minutes after school. Once seated, Anna smiled at him serenely and mouthed ‘you’re dead’. At the end of class, Anna collected her things and walked past him but as an afterthought turned to him instead and in lilting tones murmured ‘Goodbye Nathan’ and exited the room. Nathan stuck out his tongue, scratching his armpit like a monkey. He did not quite know why, but Anna put the fear of God into him. However, everyone knew girls sucked and he wouldn’t let her know that. Ten minutes later and Nathan was free as a bird so he caught up with some mates at the local deli. He didn’t give Anna another thought.
At home, Anna sat in her room. Apart from the bed, drawers and side table, it was bare. The walls were unpainted and smeared with years of grime. Perhaps there used to be wallpaper as the walls seemed very rough but Anna didn’t know. The floorboards were unpolished and in need of some care but what was particularly absent from this child’s room was toys. There existed none of any sort from teddy bears to dolls to jigsaws to gameboys. Just old furniture in an old room for a young girl. Her family wasn’t made like the families Anna had seen on TV, but it was her family nevertheless and she was loyal. Without further ado she rose from her reverie and went to see what food was in the pantry that she could prepare for dinner.
As Nathan made to leave the deli, one of his mates said, ‘Sorry that you’re gonna die Nate. I mean we really like ya and all that so we’ll come to your funeral no worries about that’ One of Nathan’s friends nudged him. ‘Yeah and we’ll have a whopper of a party in your memory too with all your fave food and drinks’. His mates were giggling. Nathan told them to get stuffed and walked home. It was Thursday and his family were going to visit his aunt Hilda. Nathan would get a hiding if he was late.
While Anna cooked, her mother lay in bed most of the time because she was ill. Anna had tried to understand exactly what was wrong with her mother but she would either lapse into tears, turn her back on Anna or verbally abuse her. All without getting out of bed. As children will do, Anna was convinced it was something she had done wrong and sought to make things better by offering to do chores around the house. Now, she did virtually everything, even to cleaning the toilet. None of this cheered her mother though, who continued to be ill and surround herself with an assortment of bottles, both prescribed and courtesy of Liquourland. There were times when Anna could not bear to enter her Mother’s room because of the stench that would emanate from it. Nathan Meyers did not know it, but he had no right to speak the way he did.
In the evening when her mother was either asleep or passed out, a weary Anna lit a candle in the kitchen and in a little bowl mixed some dried herbs from the spice rack. She muttered some gibberish under her breath then looked out the window at the full moon and openly wept ‘I hope you die Nathan!’ Afterwards she tidied up and put herself to bed.
At school the next morning an early assembly was called by the principal Mrs Hedgwick to make a special announcement. It seemed the Meyers family was on their way back from a social visit late last night when they were hit at an intersection by another vehicle who failed to see the stop sign. Young Nathan was killed outright. The rest of the family remained in a stable condition.
The school was abuzz with the news of Nathan’s demise, his last thoughts and actions speculated upon by a bloodthirsty group who knew no better. One of them perked up and reminded the rest about Anna. ‘She said he was going to die and now he’s dead. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ Everyone cottoned on to the idea at once. ‘I saw her in class yesterday, telling him he was going to die and just smiling at him you know, like she was crazy’ Another kid joined in the feeding frenzy of Nathan’s death. ‘Well let’s ask her if she had anything to do with it’. There was some reluctance but Stewart Biggins had no issue with talking to Anna and he was frankly curious.
Anna sat alone casting rocks upon the ground, studying them and then re-casting them. ‘What are you doing Anna?’ ‘I’m reading the past present and future. The rocks tell me things when I ask them questions. She looked up at Stewart and smiled innocently. ‘Everyone wants to know if you caused Nathan’s death’. Anna picked up her stones one by one, closed her eyes, shook them and tossed them across the playground. ‘Mmmm looks like the answer is yes, Nathan is dead because of me’. Stewart took two steps back as he realized the power of this horror before him ‘But why Anna?’ The young girl looked resolutely ahead. ‘He should not have spoken about my family the way he did.’ Everyone had heard the stories about Pookie Grubers but Stewart could not know that there was any connection between the fantasy witch and Anna’s life at home. He gladly left her alone with her stones.
That night, Anna cried bitterly over the death of Nathan. She knew just like her mother’s illness, it was all her fault and that God must really hate her. It didn’t matter how many times she prayed and said sorry to Him, her mother was still sick and now Nathan was dead because she had wished it. The young child felt a never ending ache inside but she knew of one way she could manage to walk through a world that seemed to be without warmth. Story telling.
A few children avoided Anna after Nathan’s death. However, most continued to be drawn to her for the colourful tales she would tell about the evil Pookie and the things Anna would have to do in order to free herself from the witch’s awful grasp. Her audience never ceased to be amazed at Anna’s creative mind and some wondered idly where her inspiration came from. If anyone challenged her, Anna would give them that look and repeat to the macabre delight of all, the strange fate of Nathan. She was after all, a very powerful storyteller.
The End