Today’s
Prompt: A basket floats down a stream, lodging on a rock in front of a child
who runs crying to his parents about the contents.
— Courtesy: Writing.Com
Word
Count: 1,171
Phillip and Marge Udra were puzzled by
the single content of the picnic basket.
“There’s
gotta be some sort of explanation for this,” Phillip said.
“I
think it’s the kids upstream playing dirty pranks,” Marge said.
“Don’t
they know better than to mess with a child’s mindset?”
“I
say we ought to call the cops.”
And that’s what they did. The cops came, sirens
blaring. When they arrived they combed the entire area for the pranksters but
found none. The police car driver recalled seeing some kids running off into
the distance as they turned into the park area.
“That
must have been our boys said the detective. Well, Ma’am, sir, you got nothing
to worry about. I’m sure those troublemakers won’t make anymore trouble today,
at least.”
“Thanks,
officer. I feel this was all for nothing. Sorry I brought you all the way down
here for nothing.”
“Any
time. It’s my job, too.”
The officers left and the family was on
their own again.
“Why
would anybody place such a grotesque object inside a picnic basket?” Marge
asked.
I’ve lost my appetite, was all the reply
Phillip gave.
The content of the basket had been handed
over to the cops who recorded it as evidence. They took it away with them to
Marge’s relief. She couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to the whole ordeal
than kids playing pranks.
Several months passed and many waters
passed under the bridge. Phillip and Marge and of course, Little Sam had all
but forgotten about the gruesome picnic basket. Life returned to normal for the
family. They’ve been back visiting at the park at the same spot where Little
Sam who wasn’t so little anymore found the basket. The pranksters have never
resurfaced again or maybe they did their best to lay low and out of sight.
June 16th was Little Sam’s birthday and
there was a little gathering around the house. Mostly family members and a few
friends. Marge had been up to her neck in activities trying to make things
worked out when her phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Mrs.
Udra is that you, Ma’am? Please, identify yourself.”
“Who
wants to know?”
“It’s
me, Detective Wilson,” The caller said. “Name rings a bell?”
“Of
course,” she said, and it awakened something crueler than fear within her.
“Turn
on your TV for a minute. Have you seen the news, lately?”
Now her tummy was roiling like a fierce
river current. She fetched her husband and they turned on the bedroom TV,
muffled the volume and watched as the camera showed many people gathered round
a stream.
The image didn’t spark any immediate
recollection until Marge saw the rock. The same rock where Little Sam had found
the basket.
“Police
sources say the basket that could have saved Mene’s life was found lodging in
this rock by a 4-year old boy whose contents the parents dismissed as pranks
played by kids they however they did the reasonable thing calling in the cops…”
Phillip picked up the remote and turned
off the TV set. Marge was sobbing quietly.
“It
wasn’t your fault, you know?”
“It’s
not the guilt. I had nothing to do with it and we called the cops, remember?
Even they couldn’t figure it out. But the lady, Mene, whoever she was fought so
hard to stay alive and we let her down. We gave pranksters credit for her
struggles. All because we couldn’t see beyond our noses.”
“Don’t
say that. You know how all that blood tore Little Sam up. We couldn’t stand
that. If we had spotted the basket ourselves, the story would be different.”
“Would
it?”
“Don’t
do this to yourself…”
Marge’s phone let out a shrill sound.
“Who
is that?”
“The
detective. Wilson. He informed me about the new,.” Marge said, checking the
phone screen.
“Hey?
Who is this?” Phillip said. He’d taken the phone from Marge.
“I
suppose I’m talking to Phillip. Mr. Phillip?”
“Yes.
You should have called me and not Marge. She’s broken by the news.”
“No,
I’m not,” Marge said
“I’m
sorry. I thought it was her idea to call the cops the other day, it was right
to let her know her responsible action had helped solved possible time of
murder even before the autopsy came in. and by that we can also guess it wasn’t
the suicide since she we found the top of her dress ripped and the size just
about matches the one we took from the basket. Sorry, if she was bothered by
the news.”
Phillip couldn’t remember who had
suggested calling the cops but that was besides the point right now. He wanted
to get off the phone and console his wife.
“Look,
officer, Detective, this isn’t a good time besides, Little Sam is throwing a
birthday party and being teary-eyed hosts would be a wet blanket on the spirit
of the occasion.”
“That’s
okay. Maybe, you can come over to the station tomorrow and we’ll go over the
content of that basket once again. Fine by you?”
“Fine,”
Phillip said, through clenched teeth.
“Sorry
to be a killjoy. Say happy birthday to Little Sam for me. Bye.”
Phillip dropped the phone on the bed and
pulled Marge into his arms. “Detective says we have to report to the station
tomorrow and go over the basket story again.”
She gave no answer. Only sniffed and held
on to Phillip. Little Sam’s birthday party was definitely over. The couple did
their best and kept the smile plastered on their faces.
“Little
Sam found the basket, right?”
“He
was playing with his rubber duck when the basket came swimming downstream and
lodged in the rock,” Phillip said.
They’d arrived at the Police Station
about five minutes earlier.
“You’re
sure it wasn’t there before?”
“No,
Detective. Blood upsets Little Sam a lot. He can’t stand the sight of it. And when
we left him there we didn’t see that basket or we wouldn’t let him stay,” said
Marge.
“I
was going to ask that,” Detective Wilson said. “Tell me the whole story, the
way it happened from the beginning.” He sat back and folded his arms.
“Little
Sam had come running to us where we were seated under the shade squealing,
‘blood, blood, blood,’” Phillip said. “Of course, our first thought was he’d
hurt himself. But then we checked him and found no bruises. He was pointing to
the stream so we followed him. When we got there it was just the way you saw it
when you arrived.”
“The
basket with the bloody piece of cloth and the inscription HELP! scribbled in blood?”
“Yes,”
Marge said.
“You
saw nobody, nothing that aroused your curiosity?”
“None
whatsoever.”
“Can
I ask you a question, Detective?” said Marge
The Detective nodded. “Shoot!”
“The
girl they found in the stream, Mene was it? What happened to her?”
“Raped,
battered, dumped into the stream and left for dead. She tried to get help with
that message but, we all know how the story ends.”
Eneh
Akpan
June
6th, 2014
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