There’s no talk of fairies here, my dear. Or of imaginary friends you seem to dream. There’s no flights of fancy or pretend tea time. Dolls sitting encircled about you enraptured by your words. For heaven’s sake! What are you, four?
Thunder claps and she jumps as lightning flashes under her cracked door. She’s crouched on her bed, holding her teddy, under her blanket, waiting for more.
What have you been writing there? A silly story about farm animals? Motioning toward her bed side table. I’m supposed to swoon and sway because it rhymes this time?
She looks over at the book beside her, hoping her mom doesn’t see. The little white Bible she treasures and hides. Talking to God and telling Him stories, they are mine! She thinks to herself. Wondering if He laughs at her too, thinking her a fool.
How can any little girl teach herself to read? Her mom opines. You can’t read and write already, someone must have taught you. Tell me whom it was that did this deed, teaching you to read.
I’m so tirrred, mommy, Can’t I just go to sleep? Or must you stand there hollering? I didn’t do anything deserving.
Reaching out she slaps the lil’ girl across the face. What is this white book? I’m taking it away. And her mom angrily stomps out the door.
She’ll get what she deserves, the lil’ girl thinks to herself. Maybe not today but another…