Brigits Flame July Week 1: "Wings"
A little girl crouched, staring intently at the ground. She wiped her purple hands on her new skirt and immediately returned to her work. The steady scraping of the chalk blended with the sounds of morning, like a songbird who had awoken with a scratchy throat.
“All right, that’s enough.” The boy who had sat watching her leapt up.
“Are you sure?” Her hand never stopped its legato motion. She moved lovingly, as though she didn’t want to be too rough with the chalk.
“Sure I’m sure, you made the wish last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” The calm scraping of chalk ceased, and the morning was filled with a new kind of quiet. “What do I have to do now?”
“Wait here.” He ran around back and the little girl heard the tap for the hose squeak on, then squeak off. A few minutes later he returned, hobbling with the weight of a silver bucket filled with water. He held it out for her to take. “Dump it.”
She didn’t reach out. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Take it. Think of your wish. Dump it.” His eyes sparkled, probably with the great wisdom his eight years brought him.
The little girl held her breath. She closed her eyes and counted to three. She wished, and she wished hard. She took the bucket and splashed it out over the purple lines on the sidewalk. The images melted away into anthills, leaving nothing but a large wet blotch in front of their house.
The boy collapsed into fits of laughter as the little girl dropped her bucket. She ran into the house and slammed the door so that the boy wouldn’t see the beginnings of tears. A few minutes later her father found her, sunk into the couch and red around the eyes.
“Hey there, sweetie pie, what’s the matter?”
The little girl jumped up. “Daddy, will you check my back? Is there anything there?”
Puzzled, the girl’s father obliged. “Nope, nothing here. Just your pretty little back.”
“Oh.” The girl’s face fell and she sunk back into the couch.
“What did you think might be there, sugar?”
She sighed, and her eyes had the look of faraway castles. “Wings.”