my name is hope because of my depression. it is also my writers name. i am an unpublished author. i hope to publish some of my work in the future but if i dont i wont be heartbroken. this is a little bit long and sad i wanted to show you some of my flash fiction but i couldnt find the USB ill keep looking but for now here is a short story.
The Little Girl
A little girl. She couldn’t have been much older than 6. Lived in an amazing mansion. However with the many rooms in the house this little girl lived in the attic. It wasn’t that she wanted to live in the attic or that she was a bad child. That’s just where her step mother put her.
Her father, recently being widowed, had moved in with a lovely young lady. The problem, the little girl did not get along with the young lady. The young lady also didn’t like the little girl. The young lady, being clever and not wanting to deal with the “thing” talked the father into moving in. Upon arrival the father asked where is Maria sleeping. “It’s OK sweetie, I have the perfect room just for her.” Picking up her bags she leads the little girl up to her room. The trip through the many hallways was silent. Until coming to a final set of stairs. Up the stairs there was a little bed that was falling apart. A small dresser that didn’t look any better. The was no lighting aside from a small lamp on top of the dresser. The only toys she had was a little broken bear laying on the bed and a dollhouse by the stairs.
The days passed and Maria tried to tell her father but her step mother always kept him busy so she never had a chance. After a week she stopped leaving her room. Sleeping most of the day away. When it was time for supper the “witch”, as Maria liked to call her would bring her up a small plate of food. Barely enough to feed a mouse. Maria would eat but in the following weeks ate less and less. The step mother being outraged by this would yell “I had the maid make you a wonderful supper, now you are going to eat it” and bring her thin skeletal hand across her face. In tears, Maria would start to eat a few bites and the step mother, satisfied, would leave. She would then throw her food out the window. This went on everyday. And everyday it was the same thing. And everyday Maria got a little bit weaker.
By now a year had passed and she hasn’t seen her love stricken father once. She’s forgotten what he looks like. When he step mother hits her she doesn’t feel the pain. She doesn’t feel anything. Not happy or sad. Nor fear. Its as if her emotions left over the past year. Everyday she played with her dolls imagining the life she wish she had. A life without the witch. Her father would play ball with her everyday and her new mother would teach how to bake and sing the alphabet. But all of that stopped just a few months ago. Now she doesn’t get up from her bed. She just lays there and cuddles her dolls. Her step mother will come in and yell and hit and scream. Little Maria just lays there, ignoring every word. Every action.
The days went by and she became thinner and weaker. Until one night she went to bed and didn’t wake up. Her step mother went up to bring her food. Started yelling and screaming like usual but when she when to hit the little girl, she felt cold. She quickly withdrew her hand. Holding it close to her. She was scared. What was her husband going to say. She had to hid the little girl. She couldn’t let him find out. But it was too late. She was up there too long. “honey whats taking so lo…”
“Sweetheart dear, I’m so sorry. I just found her like….”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” he fell down next to her. And stated crying “i should have spent more time with her.” he turned around and looked at his wife “You! You were the one taking care of her! This is your fault! How could you?!” He stood up and grabbed the lamp of the dresser and threw it at her. I should have listened to my daughter a year ago. I should have noticed that I haven’t seen her for a year. I should have cared about her. But you! You hid her from me! You hated her all along! You wanted to kill her!”
Cowering in fear she pleaded with him, “no I swear that’s not what I meant to do.”
“JUST SHUT UP!” He went over to where she knelt and closed his eyes and gently said, “stand up.” Before she could do as he asked, he reached his hands out and grabbed her throat. Squeezing tighter and tighter, he watched her eyes roll in to the back of her head. She slowly became a dead weight. Gently placing her down he realized that he is now a murderer. He couldn’t show his face again. He had to run. He had to hid. But they were going to know it was him. He only had one other option. Running downstairs frantic and disoriented he grabbed the revolver off the shelf. Putting it to his head he breathed heavily and pulled the trigger.
It was days before people started to notice. It started with “I haven’t seen the Johnston’s lately?” and it didn’t take long after that for people to smell death coming from the house. The police finally showed up. With no one there to open the door the police forced their way in and was hit with a rancid smell. And a mans body lying on the floor. They searched the house and came up with 2 more bodies in the attic. No one was alive. The house was taped off and a coroner inspected the bodies. The little girl was small and frail. With bruises all over her body. The women had hand marks around her neck the fit the mans downstairs perfectly. And the man well he still had the gun in his hand. The bodies were taken away. The family was notified. And that was the end of their gruesome story.