Short Story # 4: Footsteps

Footsteps.

I scramble to the door and look under it.

New shoes.

New shoes mean new people!

Help me!

My voice doesn’t work.

I bang on the door.

 

Footsteps.

Coming toward me.

Help!

“It’s just the dog,” the crazy lady says.

“Okay,” says the new voice.

Footsteps disappear.

No.

 

“Come back soon,” the crazy lady calls.

A noise starts in the yard.

The noise fades away.

Gone.

The footsteps are gone.

 

I crawl to the corner.

Sleep.

Dream.

My friend is happy in my dream.

He smiles, tells me they will come back and help me.

Help me…

 

Footsteps.

They’re back.

New shoes.

Loud voices.

Crazy lady screams.

Crazy lady’s man tells them there’s no girl here.

But there is.

I’m here!

Help me!

 

Heavy footsteps.

“Get back from the door,” new voice shouts.

I scoot backward.

The door thumps inward.

Light floods in.

New voice grabs me.

 

Footsteps.

We go outside.

Sunshine blinds me.

New voice puts me in a four-wheeled thing.

 

“What’s your name?”

Margaret.

“How old are you?”

Five fingers.

New voice gets in beside me.

Tells person in front seat to drive.

Rumble starts.

We leave the yard.

 

 

Wheels roll.

We go a long time.

Stop in front of a big building.

Grey, round roof.

Cool air.

Food.

Water.

Bath.

Safe.

 

Footsteps.

New lady carries me down a hall.

To another door.

Not another small room.

No! Not again!

I squirm.

She holds me tight.

 

The door opens.

Grey room.

Grey bed.

Bed.

Grey walls.

Toilet.

Sink.

Sheets.

Sheets…

 

Footsteps.

Mine this time.

Walking to the bed.

Crawling in the bed.

Curling up in the bed.

Under the sheets.

Warm.

Dream.

 

 

Footsteps.

In my dream.

My friend is there.

His eyes are happy.

“See, you’re safe now.”

“Be strong.”

 

I am safe now.

They helped me.

I’m safe.

No more footsteps.

Not for a long time.

No more footsteps.

Except mine.

Safe.

* All Rights Reserved © Grace Treadaway*

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