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Rated: E · Short Story · Family · #2196131
A story about a little girl who doesn't like her name.

At the end of the street without a name, a little girl lies on the floor of a room. It is her own room, a bed next to her is hers. Every little thing, all the toys, books, pictures - everything is owned by her. Even these small shredded white bits of paper, sprinkled like snowflakes all over the floor around her, making her look like she is making a snow angel - they are hers also. Even if ruined. She likes lying on the floor better than on the bed. She says she is resting with the stars. Oh no not under, but with them. It is already dark outside, so she lit every single source of light in her room - from the desk lamp that just barely stretched its stiff metal neck from a pile of paper, which was clearly the source of mess in the room. Above the girl, just under the ceiling the strongest light of them all was shining. It was so bright, that if the girl would open her eyes now that she had them shut for a while, she would be blinded by this brilliant white light. Still with closed eyes she stretched her arm over her head, behind her. She knows, that behind her on a bedside table stands another light. If she touches it she will burn her tiny fingers. Just for a second.
Among all the stars in the Universe she can't burn her hand on any of them. She can't even reach them. So she likes to lie on the floor and at night, when she for sure knows that every single one of her boring neighboors and even her parents have turned off the lights in their bedrooms, and turn on all the stars around her. She wasn't so small and they so far away. They were close to her and were like her sisters.
'It is not snow today, because I am in no need of snow,' she thought.
But one night - it was a really hot August night, just after a summer storm and the air was stuffy and she couldn't breath - she desperately needed snow. Big flakes of cold, icy snow that would stick to her curly hair and melt on her hot forehead. Then she suddenly woke up. She had a fever. It wasn't even hot in her room or outside. It wasn't ever August. She squinted her eyes and read April on the calendar. She was lying in the bed. April in April. She was soaked to the skin and couldn't move. It felt like her nightgown had glued her to the sheets and she couldn't make the difference between wooden bed frame under the mattress and her vertebras. If she stood up now, surely her flesh would rip. The wet clothes were hugging her between her thighs, around her stomach and her sweaty breasts. Any second now, it will swallow me whole. She was paralyzed with fear. She didn't call for help, for she knew she was alone. Her parents were not there, and she was not a little girl anymore. But she could move her big owl-like eyes, so she stared at two small heaps, that were her breasts. They rose from here chest with every deep breath she took. Then she realized something. Cold shivers went down her spine and she was suddenly hit by an ice cold jet of water powerful like a cannonball. At last she could sit straight up, breathing even more heavily than before.
It was like when I was a little girl in school an I got stuck, she thought. One day during recess, just before the winter holidays, she was challenged by a boy in her class. He wasn't bigger than her, so she wasn't scared, he wasn't even heavier than her, to be honest. He was a skinny little sprog, but crafty and he sometimes teased her about her large teeth. She never thought much of it, but that day something was different. 'I bet you don't have the guts to lick this pole, because you are a girl and you probably think it's nasty,' he said to her, while she was sitting on a bench close to metal monkey bars nobody was currently using because they were frozen and slippery. She stood up feeling brave and she did it. And she didn't know why and she still doesn't know it. She just did it. It was painful when she tried to remove her tongue from the bar, but the worst thing was everyone was laughing at her and nobody called Mrs. Pepper to help her. She would have done it her self if it wasn't for the circumstances. She would have called it for anyone else she thought to herself. When the teacher saw her she was very much angry with her, but she still helped her and poured some hot coffee from her mug on to her tongue and it came off. Immediately she stormed inside and called the girls mother. All kinds of words were thrown around, some true, some out of context but the main thing was that 'April is always doing foolish things!' April tried to defend herself by saying that trying new things and proving yourself didn't sound stupid to her, but she was just a little girl and she couldn't say anything. That afternoon her mother didn't pick April up from school, and did not say one word when she finnaly came home after several hours of walking in the snow. When she turned up in her front yard it was pitch black outside and the porch light was broken. Above her were numerous stars, and those were just the one she could see. Standing there, she never wished more for anything than to be somebody else. Somebody that could touch the stars, even if it burned a little. She went inside, but not to her room. For a while she stood right next to the front door. On the right, just at her eye level was a single picture. She told it her thoughts from before. A man, head full of curls just like hers, smiled lightly at her.

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