Olivia Suri Siobahn
Age 5
. . .
The young girl drew on the paper with great interest. Her mother was in a separate room, cleaning the kitchen, but the sound of the radio rang loud and clear through the entire house. The girl tuned it out, however, being too engrossed in her newest drawing project.
She couldn't forget that he was black all over. Except for his face; it was pure white. She'd have to distinguish the outline with a gray crayon.
The girl continued to work diligently, humming a little to her mother's outdated, yet played religiously, albums. That was when she heard that noise. It was the noise that meant He was near. It sounded like the static feedback when the TV cable was out, but it was soft; like a cat purring. She trusted that sound, because she trusted Him. He had always been there for her, even when she didn't want Him. But that was what made Him so special.
"I'm drawing you today." she told Him. "I'll make sure to get it right this time. You'll stay and watch me, won't you?"
He gave her a response in a way that only she could sense, and she smiled.
"I want to write your name." the little girl decided several minutes later. "How did you spell it again?"
She could feel Him guide her hand, forming the words that spelled out his name.
M-I-S-T-E-R S-M
The girl looked at the letters and smiled.
"Mister SM." she read. "I like it."
He did not answer her, in fact, she could no longer sense His presence anymore. It made her rather sad, but she knew He would be back. He always came back.
The little girl looked at her now completed drawing and smiled at it. She hoped that she had done some justice on His portrait. With this sense of accomplishment, she ran to her mother.
"Momma!" the little girl shouted, "Look at what I drew!"
Her mother, however, could not hear her over top of the radio as the woman scrubbed the kitchen sink.
Some of them want to use you;
Some of them want to get used by you.
Some of them want to abuse you;
Some of them want to be abused...
"Momma!" the girl shouted louder. But still, her mother could not hear her, and was instead bumping her hips side to side with the beat. The girl looked over at the radio, then at her mother. There was more than one way to get her mother's attention...
Sweet dreams are made of these;
Who am I to disagree?
I traveled the world and seven seas;
Everybody's looking for something.
The girl pulled up a chair to the counter that had the radio on it. Carefully, the girl tried to reach the radio in an attempt to shut it off. She was in such close proximity to the radio that she didn't notice the purring static that came when He was around. Suddenly, the chair moved away from her feet, and the little girl let out a surprised scream. Instantly, her mother turned around, saw the danger, and quickly reached her daughter before she fell to the floor. The little girl was stunned for a moment as her mother set her on the ground safely, then shut off the radio.
"Honey, you know better than to do that." her mother said. "You could have been hurt."
The girl did not respond however, she was stood in a daze. Her mother seemed to not notice this, and saw the girl's drawing in her hand.
"What do you have there sweetie?" her mother then asked, reaching down to take the drawing. When her mother saw it, however, her face grew pale.
The drawing depicted a faceless man in a black suit covered in blood. Four or five bodies lined the ground around the man, each in their own pool of blood. The bodies did not have names assigned to them, but the man did, and it was the fact that the man had a name that made the girl's mother tremble in fear.
The little girl was still in a daze, not caring or noticing her mother's reaction to her drawing.
That was the first time He tried to hurt her. And starting that day, it wasn't going to be the last time either.