The four-year-old girl sits in front of the silver wrapped box, a blue cone hat with yellow stars and a pink pom-pom perches on her head. Her parents nodd to give her the go ahead and she rips the shiny paper from the box. Opening the box, the child finds a plush giraffe. She slowly lifts it from the box, awe shining in her eyes, hugs it fiercely then jumps up to wrap her arms around her parents.
The six-year-old girl with pigtails skips to school in shiny black shoes, scratchy wool socks, a plaid skirt, and a white blouse, the head of a giraffe peeking out of her backpack. At recess she shows her new friends and it is passed around the little circle in the grass before two boys run in and snatch the giraffe away, chanting taunts at the girls before running off. Most of the girls remain sitting and sniffle, but the pigtailed girl gets to her feet and chases the boys. Seeing her slowly advancing, they laugh and climb a tree, hiding the giraffe at the top. Tears in her eyes, the girl goes to retrieve it, skinning her bare knees and bruising her face. When she gets home, the girl cries to her mother, grasping the grass-stained and bark adorned giraffe.
The ten-year-old girl blinks awake, squinting at the crack of light glaring in her face. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbles downstairs to the tearful voices of her parents. They're sitting in the kitchen, holding hands across the table, an opened letter in between them. Gripping her giraffe's neck, the girl asks what's wrong. The parents open their arms to their daughter and envelop her in a hug.
The next day, the girl's father is gone.
The twelve-year-old girl reads in the sunlit living room, a slightly ruffled giraffe sitting next to her, when the doorbell rings. She announces to her mother that she'll get the door. She opens the it. A tall man in a uniform, pins on his chest, and his arms behind him in a formal stance is there. He asks for the girl's mother and she calls for her. When the girl's mother comes downstairs, her demeanor changes. She tells her daughter to go upstairs. The girl lays on her bed, stroking her giraffe absent mindedly. Soon her mother enters her room, tears in her eyes, to break the bad news. Soon they're both on the bed, holding each other, sobbing on each other's shoulders, the giraffe squeezed between them.
The fourteen-year-old girl oversees the yard sale while her mother slumps in a lawn chair. She looks at a box labeled 'TOYS' and the group of three kids exclaiming loudly at the treasures within. The girl's heart pangs when she sees them pull out a scraggly looking giraffe. Before she knows what she's doing, she walks over to them and gently prys the giraffe from the kid's hands, telling him it's not for sale. He shrugs at her, then looks back to the box with his friends fiddling old McDonald Happy Meal toys. They ignore the girl as she scratches the giraffe behind it's scruffy ears.
The sixteen-year-old girl comes back to her house after a long day at school. She goes upstairs to her room, ignoring her mother and her boyfriend on the couch with two almost empty bottles of wine. She lays on her bed, tears in her eyes, tracing the scars on her arms, trying to force his face from her mind. The face that used to frequently break into grins and laugh, now turned cold as he pushed her away. Emitting soft sobs, the girl gets up and goes to a small box buried in the back of her closet. Old photographs and jewelry are nestled inside, along with an old, plush giraffe. The girl sets the box down and holds the giraffe to her chest as she cries.
The thirty-six-year-old woman places a box wrapped in shiny gold paper in front of her four-year-old son. The young boy tears the perfectly aligned wrapping off it and opens the box. Inside is a tear stained, careworn, memory filled, plush giraffe. Although the fur is patchy, hastily done stitches stand out in multi-colored threads, and almost half the stuffing is gone, the boy holds it as though it's made of pure gold. He gets up and wraps his little arms round his mother,
"I love you, Mommy."
YOU ARE READING
Short Story Compilations
عشوائيIn my school, for the creative writing class, we do short story playoffs. Everyone in my class writes a story and they're all pitted against each other. I'll put my other ones up if I have nothing to put up here... Just to keep you guys interested :)
