The Heroine at Four

She was four. Really four. Four in a way that left no doubt. In a way that made every age she once was and would ever be utterly irrelevant. Four was what she was. Undeniably.

And therefore, she was a diva. And she did all she could to get her way because her way was the only way that was worth considering. And no amount of scolding, no number of time-outs or dessert-less evenings was going to change that. Not that any of that was even fair. All she was doing was trying to make the people around her understand that she was right. They were so wrong to be so mean to her. Rude things.

And so, it came a great shock when those rude things, namely her parents, went off and died far earlier than was convenient for her. They had to go and crash up their car and leave her so unfairly alone in this world she still hadn’t tamed to her satisfaction. She resolved to take the unfairness of her rude parents out on the next person who was going to try and take care of her. Granny.

Except, Granny was not Mama. Or even Papa. She didn’t understand how things were meant to go. She didn’t give in if breath was held until unconsciousness was achieved. She didn’t hold to making sure no public scenes were made. Granny just dragged her screaming behind her to the checkout and didn’t buy her anything. Nothing at all. Not even desserts.

She found Granny supremely unfair. And rude. She had better not go and die. That would just be the last straw.

Mercifully, Granny didn’t die on her. She stayed around to impose her unfair regime. Stayed around a long time. For that, her granddaughter was immeasurably grateful.

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Categories: fiction, very short stories | Leave a comment

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