by Lucy E. Zahnle

Created on: September 08, 2009

The Good Mother

Finally free, Marta stood pressed against the wall in the hallway, listening joyfully to the faraway sounds of the children. Tears swelled in her eyes as she remembered hearing the voices of her own children so long ago. No! No! Actually, it had only been six months ago on that sunny day when she had taken them to picnic in the caves! She smiled at her memories...

The children, Alice and Andrew, had refused to eat their food, but Marta let that pass without censure, announcing that it was time to play a chasing game. The children shouted and screamed and cried, running so swiftly that she had a hard time catching them, but, finally, she grabbed them in turn, pulling each one out of a dark corner or rocky crevice.

Children could be so unruly when they lost! Alice and Andrew cursed and bit and kicked at her when they had to pay the penalty for being caught. They had to be punished for their rudeness, so she put them down to rest, holding her hand firmly over each little nose and mouth until they both slept.

Outside, Marta could hear That Woman calling the children with panic in her voice. She shouted, "Alice!" and "Andrew!" as if they were Her children; as if She loved them; as if She were their mother. Other voices joined hers, some of them male. Marta couldn't fight men! She needed to move the children further into the cave where That Woman couldn't find them, but if she awakened them, they might make a noise; might call out to That Woman; might become confused and believe that She was their mother.

Marta hated it when Alice and Andrew called That Woman "Mama!" Couldn't they see that Marta was the one who took care of them? Who loved them now and forever? After all, it was she who had found them all alone on the playground yesterday. It was she who had taken them home in her car. It was she who had fed them the medicine that had helped them sleep last night! They were her children now! Her quiet, sleeping, perfect children!

As the voices grew closer, Marta stared at the kids. She listened as they labored to breath, their faces gradually losing the blue tinge they'd had when she had first put them down. Soon they would rise and start screaming and shouting again so that the searchers would hear them. Perhaps if she used her knife... just a little, but not too much... so that they couldn't speak, That Woman wouldn't find them.

Pulling a knife from her pocket, Marta knelt beside Alice, brushing her soft, golden curls away from her neck.

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