• Once upon a time there was a child who was willful and would not do what her mother wished.

    ~*~

    "Laura, do wake up now. You must go to school," Laura's mother pleaded.
    "No, Mom. The school smells like rotten pies and old carrots, and the library reeks of mildew,"
    "But dearie..."
    "I SAID NO!" Laura yelled. "Screw school. I won't ever need an education.
    "Oh but you will, Laura. Why don't you ever listen?" her mother asked.
    "Because everything that comes out of your filthy and horrible mouth is retarted, skank!" she replied coldly. Laura's mother wept. Tears slid down her cheeks.
    "Very well," she cried as she left the room.

    ~*~

    For this reason, God had no pleasure in her, and let her become ill.

    ~*~

    "Ugh, I feel terrible," Laura groaned.
    "That's called guilt, Laura," her father said from her doorway. "I no longer will take care of you and keep you well, for this is inexcusable. Think of your poor mother!"
    "I don't want to. She an idiot, Daddy," Laura stuck her tongue out.
    He sighed. "Fine. We called a doctor. He shall be here shortly. Meanwhile, apologize to your mother,"
    "Screw that, Daddy," She folded her arms.

    ~*~

    No doctor could do her any good, and in a short time, the child lay in her deathbed.

    ~*~

    Doctor after doctor, none could figure out how she was sick. After the 9th doctor with the nurse placing a long white sheet on Laura's bode, the doctor said,
    "I'm afraid your daughter has passed away,"
    The mother and father did not cry, however, for they were glad to be rid of that awful girl.
    The father chuckled. "We have been wondering if Laura was switched at birth by a lousy nurse," he laughed. The mom laughed with him.

    ~*~

    When she had been lowered into her grave, and the earth was spread over her, all at once her little arm came out again and reached upward.

    ~*~

    "Dear, ever since Laura's funeral, I've been having dreams..." the mother confessed one night.
    "Oh, that's normal. Remember Mrs. Hildebran, how she lost her son and always came over to tell us about her dreams?" the father asked.
    "Ah, yes," she remembered. "But these are not vivid like hers. They are frightening. Laura is carrying a long scythe and kills us. Then she buries us next to her grave although she never returns to hers,"
    "Well... we can call a psychiatrist,"
    "Yes! Do that," she said quickly.

    ~*~

    And when they had pushed it back in the ground and spread fresh earth over it, it was all to no purpose, for the arm always came out again.

    ~*~

    The mother still had the nightmares.
    "Dear, I'm frightened. It's like she's back from the dead again!" she sobbed.
    He sighed. "It didn't help at all? Not Dr. Embridge, Dr. Cartson, Dr. Ralls?" he asked.
    "Not one," she cried. "They made it worse!"

    ~*~

    Then the mother herself was obliged to go to the grave and strike the arm with a rod

    ~*~

    "You sure you're up to this?" the father asked, buttoning her shirt for her. "I mean-"
    "I am,"
    He smiled. She put on her sun-hat and veil and went to the graveyard, a rose in her hand. The father wanted to come, but she wouldn't allow it.
    "I must do it alone," she had said to him.

    ~*~

    When she had done that, the arm was drawn in, and at last the child had rest beneath the ground.

    ~*~

    The mother laid the pink and orange rose on the grave and said a quiet prayer.
    "Do not hast lord, for thou is now pure with thy love" she said silently. She had no more nightmares, another daughter, Delila, and they lived happily ever after without worries ever again.

    {The End!!!}