ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 44
Invasion
Sprawled comfortably across her bed that crisp afternoon, Emily
quickly wrote her story, anxious to finish it before her mother barged into her
room and discovered what she was doing. She nibbled on one of her long
brown braids as she lay on her stomach, her fingers never quite catching up
with the words that spilled into h.e r consciousness. Her science text lay open
beside her so that a perfunctory glance into her private lair might convince
the intruder that she was doing her homework. The need to write the story
had been festering all day at school so that twice she had been admonished,
once by Mrs. Laubenheimer, with her thunderous, "The colossal gall of you
to sit in my classroom and not pay attention to what I'm saying!" and once
by Miss Cotter, in English, who accused her, rightly, of daydreaming.
She knew, had known for about a year and a half now, that if she didn't
write when she had these feelings she would invariably get into more trouble,
both in school and at home. Mother would pump her relentlessly to find out
what was wrong (although this time she certainly knew) and Daddy would
yell at her for being sullen and moody and might even send her away from
the table without dinner.
Often she didn't know what she was going to write until she began. She
knew only that her rage and frustration made her think about her father
getting murdered on the subway or knifed on the street. She would bite her
fingernails to the quick, unable to contain the guilt. But even worse was her
mother's cajoling to draw her out so she could then tell Emily why she
shouldn't feel that way and how her father really felt and what he meant.
Grudgingly allowing her parents the right to control her behavior, Emily
couldn't tolerate having her thoughts and feelings forbidden as well.
The story wasn't long. It was about a girl photographer (told in first
person) in Africa with her producer-director father who takes her on location
as a special treat. Her father leaves her alone in the bush while he returns
to their truck for additional lenses. While he's gone, she hears a drum
cadence begin. She's frightened but curious and as it increases in tempo and
intensity she tries to convince herself that her father is playing tricks on her.
When suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to see" ... daddy's
head dangling from the belt of a huge, grinning cannibal."
Her heart was beating quickly with excitement, satisfaction, and
relief. She closed her fat black and white notebook and slid it safely under
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