November 21, 2006
Wanda ran through the darkness. Heavy clouds hid and bared a silver waxing moon.
ThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThump
Her
heart beat like a hummingbird's wings. Her lungs were on fire. She
couldn't get enough air. She was going to die, her heart exploding into
her lungs.
Yet her body
ran on, did not falter or slow. Her ten-year-old legs hopped over
logs and dodged rocks, never missing a step. Her arms pumped by her
sides like skinny wings.
Little Girl! It called to her...
Wanda
heard its panting breath. It was breathing in and out heavily, evenly,
like a huge machine. Though she ran as fast as her legs could run, it
was gaining on her. In her dread she could feel how it would seize her,
giant hands crushing her shoulder and neck, jerking her into the air.
Then
she saw the tree, one low branch bent downward. The branch was broken
at the base, but she had to try to grab it. She focused all her
strength into her thighs and calves, kicked off the ground with her
mud-spattered bare feet and, jumping as high as she could, seized the
branch and pulled herself up.
CRACK crack crack CRACK
The branch was breaking.
Wanda
scrabbled at the bark of the trunk, feeling for another branch to
support her. She found one just as her feet felt the first branch snap
and spin away to the forest floor. She struggled in a gasping rush up
through branches she could barely see, scraping her face and arms,
gouging her hands. Finally, she curled herself into a ball high up in
the tree, balancing on a thin branch, pressing against the trunk, willing herself to melt into it.
She scarcely dared breathe. She could hear...it... below. Sniffing at
the base, trying to find where she had disappeared to.
Little Girl! Little Girl!
"Oh no," whispered Wanda. "God, please--please!--don't let it find me!"
Suddenly it looked up.
Why don't you like me, Little Girl?
It knew where she was.
Wanda
screamed as the dark shape threw itself against the tree with a force
that shivered it to the roots. Giant claws sank into the wood, ripping
the bark and fixing in the trunk. It began to climb.
Shaking with
fear, she eased farther out along the branch, away from the trunk,
steeling herself to jump into the blackness if it came out after her.
The branch bent, swayed. She crouched, balancing desperately, clinging
with both hands.
Why don't you like me, Little Girl? I just want to show you something! It's made for pretty girls like you--You'll like it!
It laughed, low and guttural.
I want to be your friend!
It
paused, listened. Then it growled in frustration. It was too heavy to
hang on. It slid slowly down the trunk, it's claws leaving deep gouge
marks in the bark. Down. Down. Wanda heard it stumble and fall
heavily, snarling, when it hit the ground. Then it crouched at the base
of the tree, staring up into the blackness. Waiting. Waiting with
infinite patience to get what it wanted.
Little girl... It's voice was coaxing.
Wanda didn't move until sunrise. Then she climbed higher.
"He maketh my feet like hind's feet: and setteth me upon my high places."
-- II Samuel 22:34
