The girl loved to run and play with her friends. She was
still little and knew the simple joy of the sun, the wind and the falling of a
leaf. She ran amongst the others every day, through the meadow and down to the
woods. She played in the streams, climbed in the trees and looked beneath the
rocks. But mostly the girl ran alongside her friend’s, arms wide, mouth open,
enthralled by the world.
One day however the girl and her friends came to a dark
place, a place they hadn’t been before. The air here was cool but the girl didn’t
like the place and sweat prick her skin despite the chill. The air here was
damp and stale, but the girl’s throat felt dry and tight. The light was not dappled
and playful here, it was dark and uninviting, the girl felt a fluttering,
churning in her stomach. The children stood
together, grouped tight, suddenly there was a flash of yellow and they
scattered, running again. This time with purpose towards the light and airy
places of the world, as fast as their little legs would carry them.
The girl forgot about the dark place and played until the
sun started to slip from the sky, one by one the children’s mothers called them
home. As the girl turned to shut the door on the world and join the warm,
laughter of her family the sky flashed yellow as the sun finished its descent.
Suddenly the girl felt a familiar churning, turning in her tummy. Her mother
held her and smoothed her hair and soon she was absorbed in family fun, despite
there being a funny in her tummy.
The next morning the girl leapt form bed ready to run and
play with her friends, but before she could go any further she was pulled back
by a tightness in her belly. Her mother smoothed her hair, held her and rocked
her and made her a simple porridge to sooth her, but nothing helped. So the
girl and her mother went to town to visit the doctor.
The doctor was gruff and grey with a flash of yellow in his
eyes. He growled and grumbled at the fuss he was presented with. He told the girl’s
mother not to let her eat berries in the wood with her rambunctious friends. He
prescribed plenty of rest and sent the girl home to bed.
The girl lay under cool sheets, sipping ice water and
listening to her friends run through the meadow, the warmth of the summer sun
warming their backs and pushing them toward the cool relief of the woods. The
girl missed her friends, but whenever she tried to rise her tummy tightened and
ached. Her mother brought her herbal teas to calm and clear her pain but to no
avail. Eventually the sun was sinking once again to its nightly slumber. The girl
to tried to sleep, but it was a fitful and restless affair.
The next day the girl awoke to find her stomach full and
round, reaching out to the world without her, but tender to the touch. Once
again the girl and her mother drove to town and visited the gnarled and growling
doctor. Even this grumpy, grumbler was perplexed by the girls distorted, double
in size, belly pushing her shirt forward. So with more moaning he sent her off
to the next town with the big clinic.
The town was big, bigger than the girl could have imagined,
the clinic was white and bright, too bright. It was not bright like her airy
meadow, despite its brilliance it loomed. The girl held her mother’s hand as
they made their way through the corridors, and her troublesome tum, tumbled and
twisted with every turn.
The doctors in the clinic were kind but closed, umming and
ahhing and looking at her this way and that. The girl held her mother’s hand
and tried to think of her meadow, of her wood, of the running streams, the high
trees and the low rocks. All that happened though was her stomach began to
ache, dull and low. The girl bit her lip and tried not to cry out, she begged
her mother to take her home but the doctors shook their heads and made their
notes. She was not going home; instead she would have to stay at the giant,
white clinic with its lights so bright. She would be prodded and poked, tested
and touched, eventually being allowed to sleep, though it was a sleep more
fitfully than ever, even with her mother’s protective arm so close by.
On the second day at the clinic the cool and collected staff
seemed to be hot under the collar. The girl’s tummy was by now so big and
baleful that she struggled to focus on their rambling, ruminations. The doctors
and the nurses, the students and the consultants looked and tutted. They scratched
their heads, they scratched their beards and they scratched around for ideas.
Then a lady doctor stepped forward and said “it’s no use, we need to see what’s
inside”. They rushed and they hurried and they got things ready and before the
girl could prepare herself the time had come.
The room was hushed; the lady doctor stepped forward with
the scalpel raised high. With flick of her wrist and a flash of yellow in her eyes,
she made the incision. The girl listened for her scream, but instead came a
sigh and from in her insides, fluttered hundreds of butterflies.
The girl soon recover and before very long was back running
and playing with all of her chums. If there is anything we can learn from the
girl in the woods, don’t run with your mouth open, you never know what you’ll
catch.
