LUCKY( A short story)

Chapter Three

"LUCKY! Give me back My Baby! LUCKY! LUCKY! Please!"

Waa. Waa. Waa.

"MY BABY!" She heard his cries again, "My BABY! LUCKY! LUCKY! PLEASE! He's...he's...he's gonna eat my baby," she suddenly realized, "He's gonna eat my baby. He's gonna eat my baby. NO! LUCKY! NO! PLEASE! NO!" P-please, god, she prayed, P-please. Please. D-don't let him eat m-my baby. Please, god. P-please. I beg you please. He's all I have.

"LUCKY!"

Caw. Caw. Caw. The crows came and laughed at her misery. Please, god. Please. He's my baby. He's my baby. P-please. He's my— suddenly as she ran, and fell to the ground, and ran and fell an idea came to her head as she prayed. Breathless, she stopped running at once, and began to breath and breath. She lifted the side for her skirt, and rubbed and cleaned her face off of the sweat and tears and dirt.

Caw. Caw. Caw. The crows were circling, jumping from pine and to another. She looked at them, and then pulled some corn she still had in her pocket, "Come, little birds. Come. Come, little birds. Come. Here."

Caw. Caw. Caw. The crows turned their dark eyes and looked at her. "Yes, come, little birds. Come. I have corn. Come. Come." She threw some of it on the ground, "Come."

The black birds came down, and ate the corn. Caw. Caw. Caw. "Yes, eat little birdies. Eat. Eat, little birdies. Good. Good."

She put some corn on her open hand, "Come. Come and eat." Her hand was full and the crows were getting envious. "Come."

Caw. Caw. Caw. One of them came and sat on her wrist, digging his claws in her. She started to bleed, but it didn't matter. The crow was happy and started eating the corn in her hand, "Eat. Little bird. Eat."

She took the chance, and grabbed the dark bird and broke its neck with a twist and a crack. Caw. Caw. Caw. The other crows fled with their lives and into the air. Now, limp and dull the dead crow was in her hand with its neck twisted and his dark eyes wide and shocked.

"LUCKY!" She screamed for the dog, "LUCKY! Come, Lucky! Come eat this! Don't eat My Baby! LUCKY! Please! LUCKYYY!"

Waa. Waa. Waa. Suddenly, the baby cried somewhere in the woods. "LUCKY," she screamed, helplessly, "LUCKY! Come! Come and have this." She waved the dead broken bird around, "Come! Please, come! Please!"

She remembered that night in the House. She was two months pregnant then. She had woken up from sleep long past midnight to the sound of her parents arguing in the bedroom upstairs. Her feet were cold as she climbed the steps. She could hear them more loudly now; her Father and Mother's voice. She went into the hallway and stood outside their bedroom. The lights was coming from under the door, and she could see a shadow moving restlessly inside the room.

"She's a slut and she's a whore!" she heard Father saying.

"But she's your daughter," her Mother said.

"I have no daughter! To me she's dead! I want her out of my house by the end of the week."

"You can't turn your daughter into the streets. She's pregnant."

"Well, she should've have thought about that before she opened her legs!" "She's a whore!"

"She was in love."

"Love?" her Father laughed behind the door, "She was horny."

"Don't say that!"

"Yes, she was. Love, you say. People in love don't go and lay on a bed and open their legs for strangers."

"He was no stranger. She knew him. She loved him."

"People in love get married under God and Law and with families around. Not fuck around in hotel rooms like some whore!"

"Whether you like or not, she's your daughter. She's your flesh and blood."

"Blood," her Father seemed disgusted at the word, "Blood? Blood that brings shame and disgrace. I want none of it. I want her out of my house by the end of the week."

"Or what?" Her Mother said.

"I'll throw her out!"

"You'll throw her out?"

"Yes!"

"You'll throw your own daughter out into the street when she's pregnant? What people will say then? What people will say of you?"

"She's a whore! I don't care what they say."

"She's your daughter and she's pregnant and you're throwing her out that's what people will see, that's what people will focus on not what you think of her. The baby's father wasn't a man. They'll say the same of her Father. Is that what you want?"

She scrubbed her tears but they kept coming.

"Alright," she heard her Father say.

"Alright what?" her Mother said.

"Alright, she stays. But only until she gives birth. And then I want her out. She and her bastard. Never to see them again."

"Fine."

She remembered that night in the House. She always remembered. She cried again now and continued to run, wailing, and sniveling. P-please, god. P-please. Please. D-don't let him eat m-my baby. Please, god. P-please. I-I beg you please. He's all I have. P-plea—suddenly she screamed, "Aaaaaagh!" as she found herself falling helplessly into a whole in the ground. She dropped hard on rocks and dust as her back collided with the rotten bottom of this dark echoing cave.