Short Stories (reconstructed)

Nursery Rhymes

Today is my grandmother's funeral. I slipped in the bathroom and broke my leg at midnight, so I asked my mother if I could stay here instead. My little brother also asked to stay with me, and she agreed to let us. The power went out just a while after they left, and neither of us could charge our devices. It's the middle of the summer day, and there isn't a single thing to keep us cool.

This neighborhood isn't as plentiful as anyone would want it to be, the next door neighbor being a whole kilometer and a half away, bordered by a small forest. Our family left the house early in the morning. By now they're already far, far away in the cemetery several times the distance it takes to get to the neighbor.

My brother and I love playing hide-and-seek, and would always say pop goes the weasel whenever the other was found. Today, though, we have a new player. A stranger broke into our house midday, his disgruntled voice singing the ABC song over and over. He slurs the words of the song, laughing as he does.

The man's voice sounds familiar, and the glimpse I catch of his face from this crack gives me a detail I can't let go of. He has a scar across his face. I know who he is. He knows we've got no one else here. I don't know why he's here, why he's like this. His footsteps thunder the halls as he stumbles like a toddler, whatever he's carrying dragging behind him.

Elena! he exclaims as if he said boo!
Ray boy! he giggles as he cocks his gun and shoots the door open.
Eenny, meeny, miny, moe. He sings as he walks in front of the room just outside our door.

He, for some reason, hasn't come to our side of the hallway and opened a single door. Ray is cowering beside me, his hands pressing his ears, not wanting to speak a word. I plan to sneak away downstairs, to make a call, but I hear the man stomp his way down the steps.

I lift Ray's head slowly, and I nod at him. He nods no over and over, knowing what I intend to do. I insist.

Slowly but surely, I open the door, and he waits by the faint safety of its closed covers. I run all the way to the opposite end of the hallway, enduring the stings of each loud stomp I force myself to make. I hear him walk up. The direction he's facing ensures that his back is turned against the direction Ray would escape.

I start banging on the walls as he does, and stop just as we lock eyes. I challenge him. He seems to accept it as he drops his bigger gun in favor of the smaller one by his waist. He removes what seems to be seven bullets and wildly spins the chamber. I can see his eyes, red all around.

He points his gun to my head, just a little ways off to the side. I don't think he notices. Bang. He barely misses. He spins the chamber again. I counted wrong.

-

The jump from the second floor window hurt my ankles, but I keep covering the distance as I run to the neighbor's house. I hear two gunshots echo through the yard, hoping none of them hit Elena. I run and run and run, not caring how many thorns pierce my skin. I keep running even as I nearly trip every step, not having much breath left.

I spot the white paint of the neighbors' house and run to their door, the cement patio cold to the touch, the door locked. I pound on the door quick and loud, but stop as the realization dawns on me. The people that live here are family friends, they've gone to the funeral with the rest of our family.

I rush to look for a stone to throw at the window on the far right side, so the man doesn't notice too soon if the ever crosses the forest like me. I climb the shattered window and scuffing my knees and shins with the shards, my blood trailing across the floor.

I run all the way to where I know the living room is, tripping over my own feet. I scramble for the thick, yellow phone book, scanning and scanning the pages for the police station as I stand before the phone.

I dial the number and tell them everything I can, telling them to get there as fast as possible. I tell them Elena is all alone in our family house, with a man I don't recognize carrying a large gun.

My heart sinks as they tell me, word for word, that the fastest they can get here is in thirty minutes.