Lion in the kitchen

Once upon a time in a country that was coloured blue, green, red and all those colours in between, where the hills or if you like mountains could be seen and even climbed, a little girl sat on the steps, outside of the entrance because her mother did not respond as she called and rang the bell.

Well, you could say that good happens to everyone and even why the little one wanted to go inside, since she wasn't loved not even liked and mainly scolded at if not worse.

It's unknown if the sun did shine on that particular day, all that I can say is that she was abandoned and did her best not to cry and that's why she kept singing a particular song in her head even though she could not remember every single word she had heard the kindergarten teacher had sad.

To me, she didn't look bad although different from how most people, she was the result of a mix of a white mom and black dad and no one in the entire village had ever faced a child like that.

She wasn't white, not red, not blue or black at times she looked yellow or green. It was the strangest child society had ever seen, perfectly shaped but unwanted.

She focussed on the song in her head and told herself that everything was fine, and all her problems would be solved once Dad arrived home.

It was a rough time, after the war, life had to be rebuilt by skilled and unskilled now the people had their freedom back.

The water was no longer black or red of all the blood that it had carried away, for sure it was a bright day for some people or even many on the planet but this little child had nothing that could distract her except for the song she focussed on while a ball of fear was getting heavier in but stomach, she hoped for the front door to be finally opened.

In the middle of the night dragged out of bed, head smacked against the wall, the whip hits fast, a hurt face and back, the enemy is near, with no way to leave, a skin coloured grey, blue, green next yellow, no matter what you think, It's a felony to use leashes, whips and sticks on a child that can't defend itself.

No trace of the better half of the monster who's doing this repeats itself, doesn't care if anyone notices or hears the cries in the middle of the night.

Furniture tumbles, broken chairs, cherished books being torn apart, uncontrollable rage reigns in the house where no one dares to speak out, where one has to obey, but is never good enough, the trees are purple just because a certain person said.

It's hard to keep the peace and harmony if you are not safe in your bed if no one speaks up and if an entire family ignores how badly a child is treated. The neighbours, the villagers they all hear the screams, they fear the fury and are happy when it is finally quiet.

I watch from a distance how the child begs, hands around its neck, big brown eyes, strangled while the sun rises and a brand new day starts. The neighbours are relieved, they see the car disappear, no need to interfere, say a word, why complain on this sunny morning, it's okay to pretend, ignore, act as if nothing has happened. It's early enough once the lion is in the kitchen.

Once upon a time, there was a child, a girl, not treated too well. I know because I was there, watching from a distance, the corner, holding it when it died not aware of the sun colouring the world in a country that could have been anywhere.

The photo was taken by me.

18-1-2024

Prompt: Lion in the kitchen