Another much-appreciated submission by a view. As always, thank you. This one appealed to my darker side, the only side I fear I have sometimes haha. But I took it in a slightly different direction. There is some darkness, but also light.
Thanks for reading.
Artwork by Donglu Yu
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/X6G13
DISCLAIMER: This work has not been edited beyond what is done in the video. The goal is to capture a story in a short amount of time and keep it as raw as possible.
The Story
Hua’s tummy grumbled. She knocked on the door, which had been closed and locked a long, long time. Momma had said she needed some time and to go outside and play. Momma needed a lot of time lately.
Hua watched the shadows slide across the sidewalk from her seat on the second to last step that led to her front door, because the ground was extra icky, and Momma only cleaned the steps. Sometimes.
Hua’s tummy grumbled again. “Shh,” she said to it. It didn’t listen. It never listened.
Momma said flowers ate sunlight and minerals washed through the soil by rain. Since Momma called Hua her little flower, she thought maybe she’d feel better out in the sun. Silly, thinking that the sun would fill her tummy, but what else was there to do?
Stepping into the light felt like a warm blanket, fresh out of the laundry. Hua closed her eyes and spread her arms wide, imagining them stems. She wiggled her fingers, thinking that might help. Petals, of course! Her hair was cut short, but if she spun fast enough, it might spread to eat the sunlight. She did, face turned up, her hair lifting off her neck.
Then, the world wobbled, even when she stood still. Her tummy didn’t grumble anymore, but it didn’t feel good either. “Sorry,” she said to it.
When her head and tummy stopped spinning, she sat on the ground, which at least was warm on her bottom. She traced the lines between the tiles. They’d be much prettier with color. She went to her secret place, where she kept her collection of chalk, gum that still had flavor, and the coins she had found. Almost enough to buy the little plastic doll that smiled at her through the glass of the vending machine.
Chalk in hand, she skipped down the stairs. Now, where to begin? Momma, the prettiest lady she had ever seen. Momma liked to take naps a lot, like she was now, so Hua thought what better place to take a nap than out in the warm sun. She started with her face, giving her a pillow of the tiny step before the sidewalk. She drew closed eyes and a big smile. Momma had the prettiest smile.
Hmm. What would she like to wear? A dress. Not the best thing to take a nap in, but Momma looked so pretty in them. The last time had been at the park, on Hua’s birthday. Just the two of them, eating sandwiches with no crust. Momma didn’t eat hers, so Hua ate both.
Hua’s tummy grumbled, remembering those sandwiches. Then it told her it really wanted fish sticks. “Mmm,” she said. “Good idea.”
Hands and knees on the icky floor in front of the bottom step, Hua drew all kinds of fishes. Orange ones and blue ones and yellow ones, even rainbow ones.
At the top step, she regarded her work. All of them smiled up at her, but they seemed sad. She couldn’t quite place it, until she remembered the day at the pond, with the sun glimmering off its surface. That’s when the fish came up with their funny lips to tickle Hua’s fingers when she gave them breadcrumbs.
So, Hua gave them a sun, clouds, and a sky. They still looked a little sad. No matter how bright she colored the sun, it didn’t make it brighter.
The fish needed help. Swimming up steps must be hard. Hua had legs, and she couldn’t imagine how the fish could climb up without them. She’d seen fish swimming upstream on TV before. Sometimes bears liked to catch them and eat them when they did it. Hua would help them.
She worked her way up the steps, drawing smiling fish the entire way, the closer to the door they got, the bigger their smiles. But even at the top step, the brightest yellow fish kissing the bottom of her front door, something was wrong. They needed more help.
They needed her help. She drew herself on the wall next, putting her back to it to get her height just right. When she was done, she hopped back down the stairs to take in her creation. A stream of happy fish, eager to go inside, to be cooked up and fill Hua’s tummy.
She started her ascent. “Thank you, orange fish,” she said. “Thank you, blue fish. Thank you, yellow fish.” She went on thanking every single one, because they were giving their lives for her. She wished she could do more, but thank you’s were all she had. Other than the gum and chalk stubs, but fish didn’t like those things.
Hua made it to the top and knocked on the door. Lightly, so lightly. “Momma?”
She picked at the chipping paint on the door, and then picked up the flakes to put them back, because she might get in trouble if Momma saw. They didn’t stick. Even with spit.
Behind the door was quiet. At the top step was quiet. “Momma?”
No answer. She must still be sleeping. Momma was so tired all the time. Hua wished she could make it better. If only Momma would let her in, she would. “I promise,” she said.
Hua walked down the steps backward. Maybe it would reverse time and give her a second chance, because if she knocked too much or called too much, Momma would get angry.
Hua’s tummy grumbled. So loud it scared her. “Shh,” she said to it.
She whispered in Momma’s chalk-drawing ear. “I’m sorry you’re tired. I hope you feel better.”
Hua moved inside the stairwell, careful to not step on the fish, and looked up to the big dark doorway, where the chalk version of herself stood, under the sun and clouds with a smile on her face. Like her Momma outside. Like the fish swimming upstream.
Hua felt her own face smile, but it was hard. And she walked up the steps to try again.
Leave a Reply