

51
The Beast
the hem of her cotton nightgown. She could make out the distinct
screech of the front door and instinctively crouched, hidden in the
beige sea of wheat. The long strands swayed in the wind, lashing
softly across her face. The beast stumbled down the veranda, hunting
through the grass for its prey. A slurred guttural call emanated from
the back of its throat. ‘Sarah!’ the beast bayed, over and over again.
A memory arose in the little girl’s mind; she began to hear a faint
scream echo through her head. A ruckus in the lounge room had
awoken her in the night. She remembered Sarah, tears streaked
across her freckled face. She was yelling, her hazel eyes wild and her
arms flailing. Blonde hair fell out of her loose ponytail with every
angry shake, yet her straw hat held steady upon her head.
Sarah was screeching at the little girl’s father. He stood snarling,
heated by the acrimonious argument. A pile of worn leather bags
were snuggled securely by the doorway and Sarah stamped towards
them. Terror arose in her father’s chest and he snatched her arm,
baring his teeth, like a lion pouncing on its prey. Calm washed over
Sarah; her eyes pierced directly through the man as she firmly pushed
him away. He stumbled, winded by the shove. She now strode over to
collect her bags; grunting as she lifted the weight of her life’s
possessions. The little girl clawed at Sarah’s leg crying out, ‘Mummy,
please don’t leave.’ Sarah kissed the little girl on her forehead and
gently pushed her away as she strode towards the doorway. The front
door creaked harshly as Sarah, burdened by her bags, passed through.
The door slammed shut and a gust of cool air wafted through the
stuffy room. Her father slumped to the floor, his whimpers and cries
breaking the silence.
The little girl remembered standing confused, watching her
father, a soundless mass collapsed on the floor. She stood, watching
him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her father sat,
absorbed within himself, staring at the picture frame in the hallway.
From the corner of the room, the little girl heard heavy feet scrape
across the floor. She watched as the beast skulked into the room,
hissing and snarling. Its eyes watched her with pleasure, an almost
grin appearing on its face. Its claws embraced her father, whispering
in his ear as it dragged him, sluggishly into the shadows.
The little girl was still crouched, listening to the rustle of the
summer wind.
‘
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