Here is a short story that I wrote for Lyla. It is heartbreaking, as most of her journey has been. I welcome your comments below. I hope this story touches your heart. Remember, every woman deserves her fairy tale ending, even the ones that believe they are damaged...
Little Girl Gone
The truth is God has a plan for everyone, even before they are thought of. All souls have their journey written for them, even the ones that never make it out into the chaotic world to breathe their first breath; they have a script written for them, too. As much as people try to figure out their paths and dodge the wicked curves that are thrown their way, it’s inevitable. You will stumble and fall and occasionally get hit between the eyes hard with unfortunate and sometimes gruesome events. Ironically, it is all part of the plan.
The four year old princess ran beneath the hills near the pond on her grandparent’s farm. Her little lungs filled themselves to their depths with the scent of honeysuckle tickling her nose. She had pure happiness in her heart. Her life had been normal so far, (well, normal to her, not to others), experiencing the milestones that most little ones do. She was intelligent and proud, spelling out her name to anyone that would listen. She loved fairy tales and Cinderella was her favorite. Her dream was to become a princess when she grew up. The little girl had a path of her own just like everyone else, and life would prove to be cruel to her, testing her will for years to come.
Her long black locks tumbled about as she carried her tiny legs as fast as she could, being chased by her older brother. The sun was shining an array of rainbow colors and it was soon to set. The little girl had her mason jar waiting for her on her Nonnie and Pops’ wrap-around porch to catch fireflies that muggy summer’s night.
Her giggles were like sweet symphonies, the angels above strumming their harps and the chords coming from the little girl’s lungs. She was the epitome of beauty, but the world would show its ugly side to her soon. With the times to come, the little princess would not see her true loveliness; but that was part of her script, the script written for all.
“L-Y-L-A, Lyla,” the cherub-faced girl said to her Pops in a southern drawl.
“Smart girl,” her Pops said, pride swelling in his chest.
“Pops, I don’t wanna go home. Can I stay with you and Nonnie, pwease?” the sweet little girl asked as she saw her daddy’s truck speeding up the long driveway leaving a thick trail of dust behind.
“Oh, Lyla, I’m sorry. Your daddy is here to get you. But you and Bub and Sis will come back in a few weeks before school starts, okay?”
“What about the bug with flashlights on their butts?”
“Haha! Lyla, baby. Those are called fireflies,” he said as a laugh escaped his lungs.
“I wanna catch ‘em and take ‘em home with me, Pops. Pweeaseee.”
“Next time, baby. I promise,” her Pops said to her before pulling her into him for a tight hug.
Tears pricked behind her chocolate brown eyes. Those tears would fight their way and win, not just at that moment in time, but for many years in the future. That little girl would face her first obstacle of evil that very night.
The young girl sat between her daddy and brother in the big pick-up truck. She didn’t care for that vehicle. It always made her feel uncomfortable, but she never understood why. After all, how much does a four year old little girl really understand about life, anyway? She felt the torn vinyl seats scratch her tiny bruised legs. She smelled the exhaust from the aged 4x4 and the feeling of terror filled her heart; it raced and she knew at four years old that something bad was about to happen. That feeling of imminent doom would be a premonition that would always be, and she would relate that same emotion to many other times in her life.
“Get out, boy,” huffed her father.
“But why? This is a gas station, Daddy. I don’t wanna be left alone.”
“I said get the fuck out.”
The father’s voice was a deep baritone, and loud enough to scare the birds away in flight from counties away. His yell made shivers run down his daughter’s spine and letdown flip in his son’s belly. He truly didn’t care. His plan was already etched out as well, though an evil one.
The young boy knew better than to test his father. He had tried before, but learned his lesson sporting the marks on his petite six year old frame. That was the evidence of his father’s madness.
The young boy knew not to question his daddy again. He wouldn’t let him see how upset he was. This wasn’t the first time that such a thing had happened. He knew he was the lucky one between him and his sisters. He felt like a failure, such a sad sentiment at a young age. He thought about rebelling his father’s commands and demanding his baby sister accompany him into the country gas station, but he was sure he couldn’t save her, just like the other times with his older sister. All he could do is pray for her to be okay, and pray to God for his daddy to stop.
He found a quarter on the dirty floor of the gas station and headed to the pay phone to call his Pops. It was a good thing he was learning to memorize phone numbers in school, and even a better thing he paid attention to learning his Pops’.
“I don’t understand, Daddy. I want Momma and Ros. Where’s Garrett? I wanna go to them at Uncle Tony’s house. Pwease,” the little girl pleaded in a near whisper.
Her begs were insignificant to him. She felt the sting on her already rosy cheek as her head flung to the side from the blow to her face. Her black curls followed suit, swaying across her face. It was a good thing for her because they encased the tears that freely flowed down.
Good moments gone too soon. That would be the story of her life, but she had a noble soul. She would live a life of contentment one day, breathing the true dream of a fairy tale. It’s the tics along the way that wouldn’t be easy. At that inkling in time, her life was turned upside down and she would carry the pain and memories for the rest of her life. The one man that was supposed to protect her shattered her image of Prince Charming. She was ruined for all others, until the day that she was to be rescued from the burning castle; a day she thought would never come. At four years old she started to hate herself, and the dimness would lurk and bite her along the way.
Happiness and joy were ceased, for the little girl was gone.