Writer's Cramp Entries

Sally

Written for "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt:Write a story or poem containing an umbrella, a thunderstorm, and a lost child.
_______________________________

“So you’re lost?” I ask with no real interest, wondering if Stevie will show up sometime soon. The once light drizzle is now a full fledged thunderstorm, and my pathetic shelter beneath this green awning isn’t helping much. I could have waited in the car, but --

A sniffle, and I stare at the girl clutching the hem of my dress now, while swallowing the bitter taste of irritation and disgust that fills my throat. There’s mucus running from her nose, and I swear if she rubs those already reddened eyes any further, she’ll gorge them out. Her features are narrow and pale – too pale if you ask me. She’s dressed in a calico dress reminscent of a sack used to keep potatoes, and her smell. God, the smell! Like decaying or rottening tomatoes which has been locked up too long in a pantry. Funny, it reminds me of my Aunt Marge’s kitchen while growing up. I always hated that place anyway.

“Please help me,” she whispers and clings tighter to my legs. I fight the urge to kick her away, almost blurting out that this dress had cost me about a hundred dollars. Besides, I couldn’t blame whoever decided to abandon her here. She really is a sight for sore eyes. Don’t get me wrong. I love kids – good, clean, well-behaved kids – and Stevie and I plan to have some in the future. I just don’t want to have to deal with them right now. Especially not one who seems like she could use a soak in a tub full of antiseptic.

Oh, God. I just noticed the scabs on her arms. I hope it’s not contagious.

“Listen,” I begin as patiently as I can. “Why don’t you use your umbrella…” I stare at the red thing rolling and dancing with the wind caused by the rain. “…uumm…and go home, eh? It can’t be that far from here.”

Here being a small roadside Stop n’Go, where Stevie has gone in to buy some snacks for our trip. We’re traveling to California to spend some time with his parents. It’s also a much needed downtime for us since we workaholics, are so engrossed with our business schedules in the real world.

“Mommy…” She hitches in a sharp breath and begins to bawl. “Mommy left me! Mommy left me!!” She shrieks and begins to pound my upper thighs with fists that are quite strong for a girl her age. Goodness, she couldn't be any older than eight.

“Stop it!” I scream, reaching out to give her a slap. I can feel my anger rising like a flame within the pit of my stomach. It’s a rage I never thought I would feel for a little girl, but she's driving me absolutely crazy. I have to stop her now before it was too late. “You stop it now, you stupid bitch!”

“Carrie?”

I spin around quickly, noticing Stevie standing with arms full of goodies, but yet flinching away from my stare as if seeing something disagreeable.

“What?!” I snap impatiently.

“You were screaming,” he begins slowly. “Who were you talking to?”

“Don’t you see the little snot nosed…?!” I begin, turning back to the girl, but to my surprise, she’s no longer there. I blink in confusion and run out of my shelter, now almost frantic to find the brat. But a quick race around the small building, while getting drenched in the process, yields no results. She’s gone. Vanished into thin air.

“She was here,” I whisper softly. “She was…”

“See ya met Sally, eh?” the storekeeper says as he watches me, amusement in his eyes.

“Sally?” Stevie asks, mirroring my confusion.

“Yah,” the man says, spitting out his tobacco and staring at the heavens. “Mom left her here and ran off with some other man. Poor girl died out back here somewheres…comes every once in a while to look for her ma. You know how little girls are.”

He grins and spits again, before humming beneath his breath and disappearing into the warm confines of his shop. I can feel the scream welling up in me, as I finally realize what had happened, and as Stevie pulls me into his arms to hold me tight, I swear I can still see that umbrella dancing in the rain.

Word Count: 697