Maria

Maria skipped around the public fountain, occasionally stopping to dip her hands in the cool water. The fountain, carved from huge blocks of gray stone, was a place in Port-au-Prince that Maria looked forward to visiting every day. Her mother stood close by, nodding her approval and assurance as the little girl danced in the fountain’s watery mist.

And then, the earth shook. The cobblestones parted and little Maria disappeared.

Maria was on her back, frightened and alone in the dark and couldn’t feel her legs. And from the rubble, she cried out, “Mama.” And there was no answer.

The second day, Maria tried to wiggle her toes. She couldn’t and she cried. Searching her pockets, she found her beads and began to pray. She prayed for forgiveness and her mother's safety. She prayed that her pain would go away. Tears puddled on her eyelids and ran down her cheeks to her lips. The salty moisture wasn’t enough to quench her agonizing thirst. Maria slept.

On the third day, Maria stopped praying out loud and was silent. Later, she tried to remember the words to songs Father Ryan had taught her. She had her favorites, but she couldn’t remember them. Humming was the best she could do. She cried some more.

On the fourth day a bright light filled the stone chamber where Maria was held captive. She thought the light was a star, brighter than any star she had ever seen. All her pain was gone and she wiggled her toes and moved her legs.

“I’m okay, Mama,” she said.

Tightly clutching her beads against her chest, she walked toward the bright light and people. They were waiting for her with open arms. Little Maria once again skipped just like she did on earth.

Word count: 295