To the school where the strike is being held
From Create Your Own Story
You head in the direction of a local primary school. The school is surrounded by a protective brick wall and steel gate which stops you from entering. You shrug, unmoved. There’s not likely to be anyone there in any case, due to the strike.
As you cross the street you catch a glimpse of a small brown-eyed girl clutching a small floral backpack. She stares at you from across the way as you amble closer but she says nothing. Her tears continue to cascade down her rosy cheeks. The material of her bag is damp in one area and her eyes have been reddened from her crying. Her hair is messily tied in a bun sitting atop her head with an oversized black velvet bow clip to keep her fringe out of her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” you ask the small, lonely child.
The little angel stares up at you with her round, teary, honey-coloured eyes. She hesitates, but she senses genuine concern in the tone of your voice. “I…I always walk to school,” she says suddenly, and you’re not quite sure how this is relevant, “and today my mummy told me to start walking because it was getting late and she didn’t want me to miss school. But now…*sniffle* now no one is here and my mum is at work, so I can’t go home.”
A few rebellious tears stray from her eyes and she carefully wipes them away. She and her mother obviously didn’t hear of the strike. You smile warmly and kneel down at her side. She tries to cover her tears and sniffling by having her school jumper’s sleeve close to her face. She shivers partly from fear and partly from the heat of your body against her cold, almost shivering one. With the clouds hanging drearily above head, it looks as though it’s about to rain.
“You don’t feel safe here do you, honey?”
She brings her tiny fingers up to her round cheeks and shakes her head, an innocent gesture, but one that excites you in its sweet, naïve nature. “I can help you, sweetie baby, but then you need to help me. Is that okay with you?”
She glances downward in the other direction but you use a thick finger to turn her chin to face you. She looks unsure. “All I want from you pretty baby, is to keep me company in this cold weather. We can spend some time together, and this afternoon, I’ll take you home safe and sound, I promise I will,” you say in a honeyed tone, as you begin to caress her cherubic cheeks. “How do you feel about that?”
She still looks unsure.
