Help
“Could
you help me, please? Excuse me? Could you help me? Please.”
Sasha
looked around and finally saw the little girl standing on the porch steps.
That’s
odd, she thought. I didn’t think anyone lived here. I guess someone finally
bought the old place.
“Excuse
me,” the little girl said once more, coming down the steps towards Sasha.
“Please, I need help.”
“What’s
wrong, sweetie?” Sasha replied, stamping her feet and rubbing her hands
together to keep warm in the chill autumn air. She should have worn her heavier
jacket. There was no time to go back and get it. She was already late and now
this little girl was making her later. Ah, well, there are other jobs, she
thought.
“It’s
my father,” the little girl said. “He’s fallen and I can’t wake him up. Please,
come and help him.” The little girl turned and moved quickly back up the porch
steps.
Sasha
started to follow when she remembered her cell phone. “Did you call 911,” she
asked. “You should call 911 before you do anything else when someone is badly
hurt, you know.”
The
little girl stopped near the top of the steps and replied “The telephone isn’t
connected.”
Sasha
pulled out her cell phone and started to dial saying, “That’s ok. I’ve got my
cell. I’ll dial 911…” Before she was able to finish the sentence the little
girl bolted down the stairs, grabbed her free hand, and tried to pull her up
the stairs. The cell phone flew out of Sasha’s hand and onto the sidewalk. She
moved to retrieve it but the little girl wouldn’t let go.
“Please,
there is no time. He’s badly hurt. You must help him,” the little girl cried.
Sasha could see how frantic she was. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to check on
her father first and then come back to get the cell phone to call 911. She
doubted anyone would steal it even though it was lying in plain sight on the
sidewalk; the neighborhood was practically abandoned.
Sasha
let the little girl pull her up the porch steps and into the foyer. It was dark
inside. There were heavy velvet curtains covering the windows and no lights had
been turned on. She noticed a switch on the wall near the front door and pushed
it. Nothing happened. “No electricity,” she asked the little girl.
“Yes,
but the fuse blew. Father was going down to change it when he fell,” she
replied. The little girl picked up a candle stub from the foyer table, lit it,
and motioned for Sasha to follow her. They moved quickly into the gloom, the
candle providing the only light.
The
little girl stopped at a nondescript door outside what looked to be the
kitchen. She pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked it. “Father is down
there. In the cellar,” she explained.
Suddenly,
Sasha did not want the little girl to open the door. She did not want to see
what was on the other side. Stop being silly, she told herself. There’s nothing
on the other side of the door except some stairs, the cellar, and an injured
man. She gathered her courage and reached for the doorknob, opened the door,
and let loose a giggle when nothing gruesome jumped out at her.
Sasha
moved to the top of the stairs and peered into the darkness below. She could
see nothing, not even the little girl’s father. She turned to the little girl
and asked “Do you have a flashlight I could use? I can’t see anything down
there.”
The
little girl replied “Father had the only flashlight with him when he fell. I
think I remember seeing it by him on the floor. This is the only candle I have,
sorry; I don’t want to be left in the dark.”
“What
exactly happened to your father? You never said.”
The
little girl looked worried. “He fell down the stairs. We were in the kitchen
when the fuse blew. Father got angry and, I guess, he wasn’t watching where he
was going. He must have missed a step and fell. He’s at the bottom of the
stairs. He wasn’t moving and I couldn’t get him to wake up.”
“And
you’re sure you saw the flashlight next to him?” Sasha was hesitant. She really
did not want to go down the stairs in the dark. Something wasn’t right but she
couldn’t put her finger on what.
“Yes,
it was next to him. On the floor. You shouldn’t have any problem finding it.
Please, check on him. Make sure he’s ok. I couldn’t get him to wake up,” the
little girl sobbed. “Please!”
Sasha
turned to go down the stairs. As she pivoted to navigate the first step she
felt a hard shove from behind. The shove was so strong that she lost her
footing and fell to the floor below; striking her head hard. The last thing she
heard before she lost consciousness was the door being closed and locked. The
last thing she saw was that there was no one lying at the bottom of the stairs
except her.
In the
hallway the little girl removed the key from the lock and put it back in her
pocket. A small, wicked smile played across her lips. She should keep them
occupied and well-fed for a while, she thought.
Photo Reference:
Feltner, S. A.
(Photographer). (1910-1925). Photo yc 6-45a girl standing on porch steps. [Web
Photo]. Retrieved from http://www.tngenweb.org/stewart/fpa/fpayoungchildren.htm
No comments:
Post a Comment