The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

Inspiration Monday: Under the Bed

Check out the prompts over at Inspiration Monday, and read some great posts from last week too, while you are there. I decided to do a children's story this week as my first time with the InMon crew:

Tatiana was three. She'd gotten her own bed when she was two, despite the protestations of her overly protective mother; the crib as too confining, not because she was a large child--she was in fact quite petite, even still--but because there was something about the bars that made her cry. She was destined to be a free spirit, never to be imprisoned by herself or anyone else for that matter. But for now, she was three, and loved the freedom that her twin bed provided. And because she was three, she could easily fit beneath it as a hiding place, which she often did to Mother's great annoyance; she would get under there on laundry day and wait for mum to come fold clothes: she would gently reach out to grab her shin just to make her squeal and jump. Tatiana was as mischievous as her mother was tightly wound.Tatiana's toy box sat at the foot of her bed, but was only used for the bad toys. The ones relegated to the toy box were the ones that she couldn't easily dispose of; once, Daddy had bought her a Raggedy Ann doll.The doll frightened her but Daddy insisted that she was being silly, that the doll was beautiful and that she should be grateful. She'd once tried to throw it away inside a sack of trash but was caught and swatted. She was made to apologize and actually had to kiss the thing and promise never to do such again with her gifts. From that time on, she kept it in the toy box.When Tatiana turned four, she asked to take up ballet. Her mother was delighted and went out immediately to purchase all sorts of lovely tutu's and ballet slippers; upon her return home, she searched for space in Tatiana's room for the new items and settled on the toy box at the foot of Tatiana's bed--after all, Mother reasoned, she rarely plays with anything in there anyway. Mother stopped to go get a bin in which to put the toys--they were, she was sure, perfectly good and could be given to charity. As she opened the box and began placing the toys in the take-away bin, Tatiana came around the corner and gasped at the sight of the Raggedy Ann doll. Mother turned at the sound, surprised by it and at finding the doll again. "Well, Tatiana, darling," she cooed, "I just bought some things for you and thought I could put them in here." She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I know you don't play with these toys anymore, even though Daddy wanted you to. He doesn't have to know, does he? Of course not--he probably has forgotten all about it." She took up the doll again, and unknowingly shuddered as she straightened its dress. "Tell mummy, won't you dear; why didn't you like Raggedy Ann?"Tatiana's lip trembled slightly as she lowered her eyes to the floor. A tear slid down her face as she quietly looked back at Mother. "It has teeth," she whispered.

100WCGU: A Lake View

Daily Prompt: Who Calls?