| General Flash Fiction posted October 24, 2022 |
  |
Little girl lost
Too hard!
by Wendy G
Lost - Flash Fiction Contest Winner
My heart rate was increasing. I could hear the pounding in my head.
Urgently I called her name. Over and over again.
How could I lose her? I was gone for only a couple of minutes.
Once again I ran through the house, calling.
Although she was three, she was almost non-verbal. Nevertheless she understood everything, even quite complex sentences.
She was always excited to see me on our special days together, and we had such fun, but every time I encouraged her to speak, she would simply say "Too hard!" She spoke only those two words. "Too hard!"
Usually she came running when I called her name. I would sweep her into my arms and she'd throw her chubby little arms around my neck. It was our little game.
But today my imagination went into over-drive. I looked under beds, in the laundry basket, behind the lounge chairs, into every nook and cranny. I threw open wardrobe and cupboard doors in case she had closed herself inside.
No response. No chubby little arms held out towards me. No running steps.
In a panic I raced outside, searching frantically around the back and both sides of the yard, checking under trees and shrubs.
Could she be behind the shed? There was just sufficient room for a small child to fit – but not enough room for me to reach her. There were spiders, perhaps poisonous ones sheltering in the dark spaces . . . . I could not see her. Had she been bitten? Was she unconscious, stuck in a small gap?
Calling, calling. No answer. No cries of joy with wide open arms. I was panicking.
What could I say to my son, her father? How could this happen?
I had a sudden horrid thought. My husband had gone out – through the front door, normally kept locked. I checked. It was unlocked! How could he have been so careless? Anyone could have entered the house!
Panic-stricken, I realised what had happened. A passer-by had slipped in and snatched her. My breathing was becoming ragged.
Should I phone my son first, or the police?
Gasping sobs were choking me as I called her name one more time. One more check.
I entered the study, where I'd already looked several times. Why did my husband always carelessly leave his chair out, instead of tucked under his desk? Exasperated, I slid it back into place.
Then I saw . . . tiny toes, peeking out from behind the curtain!
I gasped, flung the curtain aside. There she was!
She'd initiated a game of "Hide and Seek", and rearranged his chair herself in front of the curtain, so she could hide really well!
"Were you playing 'Hide and Seek', my sweetie?" I queried weakly.
She nodded solemnly, holding out her chubby little arms. I hugged her tightly, laughing with relief.
How many three-year-olds can stay absolutely still and quiet for half an hour? Usually that's just . . . too hard!
My heart rate was increasing. I could hear the pounding in my head.
Urgently I called her name. Over and over again.
How could I lose her? I was gone for only a couple of minutes.
Once again I ran through the house, calling.
Although she was three, she was almost non-verbal. Nevertheless she understood everything, even quite complex sentences.
She was always excited to see me on our special days together, and we had such fun, but every time I encouraged her to speak, she would simply say "Too hard!" She spoke only those two words. "Too hard!"
Usually she came running when I called her name. I would sweep her into my arms and she'd throw her chubby little arms around my neck. It was our little game.
But today my imagination went into over-drive. I looked under beds, in the laundry basket, behind the lounge chairs, into every nook and cranny. I threw open wardrobe and cupboard doors in case she had closed herself inside.
No response. No chubby little arms held out towards me. No running steps.
In a panic I raced outside, searching frantically around the back and both sides of the yard, checking under trees and shrubs.
Could she be behind the shed? There was just sufficient room for a small child to fit – but not enough room for me to reach her. There were spiders, perhaps poisonous ones sheltering in the dark spaces . . . . I could not see her. Had she been bitten? Was she unconscious, stuck in a small gap?
Calling, calling. No answer. No cries of joy with wide open arms. I was panicking.
What could I say to my son, her father? How could this happen?
I had a sudden horrid thought. My husband had gone out – through the front door, normally kept locked. I checked. It was unlocked! How could he have been so careless? Anyone could have entered the house!
Panic-stricken, I realised what had happened. A passer-by had slipped in and snatched her. My breathing was becoming ragged.
Should I phone my son first, or the police?
Gasping sobs were choking me as I called her name one more time. One more check.
I entered the study, where I'd already looked several times. Why did my husband always carelessly leave his chair out, instead of tucked under his desk? Exasperated, I slid it back into place.
Then I saw . . . tiny toes, peeking out from behind the curtain!
I gasped, flung the curtain aside. There she was!
She'd initiated a game of "Hide and Seek", and rearranged his chair herself in front of the curtain, so she could hide really well!
"Were you playing 'Hide and Seek', my sweetie?" I queried weakly.
She nodded solemnly, holding out her chubby little arms. I hugged her tightly, laughing with relief.
How many three-year-olds can stay absolutely still and quiet for half an hour? Usually that's just . . . too hard!
|
Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story under 500 words about being lost |
Lost - Flash Fiction Contest Winner |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Wendy G All rights reserved.
Wendy G has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
