Archive for the ‘Sara Genge’ Category
Mora And The Flying Iguanas
Thursday, August 23rd, 2007
Mora surveyed her eggmates with an air of deliberate disregard. It wouldn’t do for them to think she’d give a hoot if a predator nabbed them. Look at someone twice and they always thought that you’d give a limb to save them from the flying Iguanas. Bah.
A cry!
Mora dashed for cover and the Iguana landed less than three feet away. Her toughness melted as she looked gratefully at the sentry that had sounded the alarm. But no, she mustn’t let herself feel like this, or one day an Iguana would come and she’s rush out to help someone and end up just like Lora, Vero, Mrida, Tolo and the others. Not loving people was hard, but she steeled herself against the mushy feelings that threatened to engulf her. Tough did the trick.
She crouched low, unwilling to look at her fellow comrades in peril and waited until the threat was over before creeping out from under the tree.
Parental A hooted his approval: she’d hid fast and pride glowed blue in his face. She did a little happy dance.
Screech! The Iguanas were coming back. Mora saw Lolo scratching his bottom on the hill, oblivious of the attack. He was not smart and he didn’t hear so well.
Without thinking, Mora dashed out, reaching him just as the Iguanas were ready to pounce, bowling him over and pushing him under a root to safety. She looed with elation as the warm feeling of saving people swelled up from her tummy, but then the sharp toes of the Iguanas caught on the tender flesh under her pelt. She kicked and fought in the air, bobooing for help, but she knew the parentals wouldn’t even look up.
They took out their notebooks and ticked a name off. That’s all they could do. Even parentals were impotent to stop the Iguanas.
Dear Diary: A Week To Forget
Monday, August 13th, 2007
Monday,
Dear Diary:
The Ministers have left and they didn’t kill anyone this time, but
Momma is pregnant and it shows. The neighbours don’t stop talking
about it. Even Susan’s mother told her not to play with me (she’s
still my friend though).
When we went for groceries a woman said:
“You would’ve thought she’d had enough with the first one, that devil
daughter of hers.” She wasn’t quiet either, she wanted us to hear.
“Well, I don’t think they’re much trouble to her, not if they come out
as easily as they go in,” said the woman next to her. I know that
lady. She lives just down the block.
I pulled Mamma’s sleeve and whispered that I’d knock them if she’d let
me, but she hushed me up and we kept shopping.
Old Beth was the only one in that store who was good to us and gave us
a fig and a godliver each. She’s been all quiet since the Ministers released her from
cus-to-dy, but she says she can’t forget how Momma got her out.
When we left the store, Momma said:
“Don’t pay them no mind. If it weren’t for me, the Ministers would’ve
burned us all at the stake. You just remember that, baby.”
Wednesday,
Dear Diary,
The whole town turned up at our doorstep. I didn’t want her to open
the door, but Momma said she wanted to “get it over with”.
They took her away. They had pitchforks and knives, but she went
quietly. I shouted and kicked, but Old Beth grabbed me and held me
back.
She returned at dawn, bald. Dear Diary, they’d cut off her hair! It
was all long and black and so beautiful you wouldn’t believe.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’ll grow back, darling. It grew back when I
had you.” Momma was crying. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry before.
What did the townspeople want her hair for? Whatever it was, they’re
going to pay.