Bluebird
“Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,” I sang
at the top of my lungs.
“Right down Santa Claus Lane!” Preston joined in.
It was the night of Christmas Eve and I was driving with
Preston to his parents’ house. We were going to spend the night and exchange
gifts in the morning. As we drove through the snow, Preston and I belted out
our favorite Christmas carols.
I inhaled deeply, grinning as my favorite smells entered
my nose. I could practically taste his mom’s gingerbread and apple pie. The
other air freshener filled the car with the sharp scent of pine trees.
Christmas was my favorite time of year.
“Here comes Santa Claus,” Preston started again. Then I
saw her in the dark night.
The little girl wore a tattered blue coat. She waddled
onto the train tracks and started playing with the white fluff on the ground.
Her chubby hands dug into the ground, though she wasn’t wearing any mittens. Her
chocolate colored curls were lightly dusted with snowflakes, as though someone
had sprinkled powdered sugar on her head. The way she walked, it appeared as
though she were floating. The child looked like a little bird.
“Preston, slow down,” I ordered. He stopped right in
front of the girl. The tracks looked old and rickety. I stepped into the frigid
Montana air.
“Hey, sweetie,” I called. “Where are your parents?”
The child looked at me with a sweet, innocent look on her
face. She cocked her head slightly, looking like a confused bird. I noticed
that her bright blue eyes were the color of the ice I was standing on.
The ice was slippery and I wobbled around trying to gain
balance. I slipped back into the sleek, black BMW, very out of breath.
“Gracie, we shouldn’t leave her out there,” Preston’s
soft brown eyes gave me a pleading look. “Go get her. Pleeeeeeease?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I can’t get her off the
tracks.”
Preston glared at me and commented, “You didn’t try very
hard, did you?”
I looked back sheepishly. Then I rubbed my eyelashes and
the snow on them melted. “I can try again, I guess. But it’s cold out there!” I
protested.
That’s when I heard the horn. Then I saw the lights. It
happened in a flash. One moment, the child in blue stood in the cold looking at
me. The next, the train crushed the girl with a horrible bang!
I didn’t even hear myself scream.
When the train had passed, Preston laid a shaky hand on
my shoulder. His features looked troubled.
“What are we gonna do?” he asked.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"I don't know," I whispered.
We both stepped out of his BMW and walked toward the
tracks. I couldn’t stand to look at the sight of the bloody mess. The girl’s
mangled body was a horrible sight to look at and I turned away, threatening to
vomit. It was a long night.
***
We
went to visit her grave exactly a year later. It really was hard to do because
I didn’t want to remember the sweet look she gave me. I didn’t want to remember
her bird-like mannerisms. I didn’t want to relive seeing her mangled, bloody
body.
When we arrived at her grave, I brushed off the hat of
snow that covered the top. Her tombstone read “In loving memory of the girl in
blue. Killed by train December 24, 2016. Unknown, but not forgotten.”
We weren’t able to locate a family of the little girl.
When we tried to explain to the police what happened, the assured us that there
was no way they could find a family. Nevertheless, they tried to find the
girl’s identity. They failed, however.
I set down my holly wreath and put my little note next to
it. I wiped away my tears before they could freeze to my face. Preston wrapped
an arm around my shoulder.
I noticed that a holly leaf pierced my note. The little
piece of paper flapped in the slight breeze.
The note read “We miss you Bluebird.”
"Laugh. It's worth it."
~Molly
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