Regina
The lop eared bunny lied silent on the grass,
breathing rapidly. I watched as it pressed against the ground in its
hiding place. It was hiding from my little brother Martin who sat
few meters
away on the grass, nothing but a
diaper on and babbled something to the bugs running on the ground.
From time to time, he made a high-pitched
scream when something was
particularly funny to him. The pet bunny pressed against the grass
even harder then, and I could see its muscles tighten as it was ready
to jump and run away if Martin was to come too close.
“Bisque”, I said to the bunny and smacked my
tongue for him to come to me. The bunny flinched and turned towards
me breathing so rapidly he shook back and front.
“Come here boy. Don’t worry”, I went on
encouraging him and the bunny gladly hopped towards me to safety. He
pushed his head against my bare foot and rubbed his chin to my skin
in order to mark me as part of his territory. I lifted the bunny up
to my lap and brushed his fur gently. Bisque closed his big, brown
eyes and snorted in content. I petted his long ears against his back.
“Bunny!” Martin cried when he saw the animal
in my arms. Martin knew how to say words that had one or two
syllables in them but more than that was too much. For example,
“strawberry” was “strawy”, “broccoli” was “broco”,
“sausage” was “sausy” and my name, “Regina” was “Reg”
for him.
“Yes, it is a bunny”, I replied to the boy.
“Bunny! Bunny!” He yelled. Bisque pressed
himself against me in terror. Bisque had been a very social bunny
ever since he was a baby but something about Martin scared him. Maybe
it was because Martin was so loud and he had a bad habit of pulling
Bisque’s ears. I got up from the chair I was sitting on so Martin
could not reach the poor bunny.
“Bunny! Bunny! Bunny!” He screamed happily and
stretched his fat fingers up towards the animal. The fingertips were
wet from drool.
“Bunny needs to go to its cage now, Martin.
Bunny goes home.” I saw the look on Martin’s face turn unpleased
and I was afraid that he would start crying.
“Bunny...” He whispered quietly and then
turned his back to me. He waddled away half walking and half
crawling. He was going towards the berry bushes repeating the word to
himself in a soft voice.
“Okay Bisque, now you're safe. Lets go put you
into your own cage”, I told the bunny who looked at me accusingly.
He had always been able to run around free before the dumb child came
to the family and he did not like
losing that freedom.
“I'm sorry”, I sighed and walked through the
big yard to the big cage. Actually, it was a small, red “house”
meant for chickens and it had a netted space for outings. I lowered
Bisque into it and added some more oats for him. Bisque was staring
at me begging so I gathered some leaves of cow parsley and offered
them to the bunny. He pulled the leaves from my hand dramatically and
started munching the treat loudly.
I walked back where Martin had been but I could
not see him anymore.
“Martin!” I yelled and looked around the berry
bushes. My stomach turned. How far could he have gotten? Mom would be
crossed if
she knew
I had let my brother out of my
sight. I followed a wooden fence around our backyard and tried to
spot
any
signs
that someone had crawled under it
but the grass everywhere was untouched.
“Martin! Martin!” I screamed. I was starting
to panic. I paced around the yard looking into every bush and
tussock. The backyard was huge and safe but it was surrounded by
forests and a lake from which the boy would be hard to find.
I ran
to the front of our house and in to
the sandy driveway. I figured, that the boy
knew
it was where we left normally if we
went to a restaurant or something. The hair on my back rose as I saw
fresh tire marks on the road. Someone had driven almost to our house
without me hearing anything. I followed the tire marks for a while
but then gave up. Could someone had kidnapped Martin? Tears ran on to
my face. I had turned my back for just a minute.
To my surprise, my parents were not angry at all.
They had no time for that as they were in panic and
sickened
with worry. Soon there were police
everywhere. They were taking photographs of the tire marks, searching
the forest with K9s, sitting on our porch drinking coffee and asking
me to tell what had happened again and again. But they did not find
Martin and I could not stop crying. On a branch of a big pine tree,
an eagle-owl spread it wings and took flight.
The night came and the police left insuring my
parents that everything would be alright, they would find Martin. The
tire marks had been from the post
man’s car, that was revealed quickly. So
we had no clue where Martin had disappeared. I dragged my feet across
the grass and stared at the night sky where stars were lighting up.
“I'm sorry”, I mumbled to my mom for the
thousandth time. She gave me a tired smile and took me into her arms.
“I don't blame you, dear.”
Tiredness was making my eyelids heavy but I could
not fall asleep. I lived in the attic, in my very own room which was
a sort of a sanctuary for me as it was my own space and my parents
did not have a permit to come there uninvited. The walls were covered
with animal posters and some band posters as well. On the floor,
there was a homely pile of dirty clothes that had appeared there
after the space on the back of my chair had ran out. Otherwise the
room was extraordinarily clean for a teenager’s room. At least
compared to my friends’ rooms. The
pale-blue moonlight was shining in from the only window, lighting up
the entire room. Usually I felt safe in the attic but not tonight.
I was sketching tiny, scruffy pictures of cats in
the moonlight. I sat on the edge of my bed with my legs crossed and
leaned the notebook against my
bare thigh
uncomfortably. Somewhere in the room
there was a fly, I
could hear
it buzzing around.
I drew a cross over yet another picture I was not
happy with and threw the notebook on the bed. Then I straightened my
legs and stretched slowly. I hopped off the bed and walked to the
window. Right then I felt blood rushing to my head. I stared out of
the window and breathed so rapidly I was shaking as Bisque had
breathed earlier that day in his hiding place.
“Martin!” I cried. The boy was standing at the
tree line with a lost-look on his face. He was still wearing nothing
else but the diaper. I stumbled into the stairs shouting.
“Mom! Dad! Martin has come back!”
The door to my parents bedroom on the second floor
was open but there was no one in there so I headed straight to
downstairs. Mom and dad
were
waiting for me at the bottom of the
stairs, looking alarmed. I pushed through them pointing at the door
and they followed me outside. I ran to where I had seen Martin
standing and he was still there. Thank
God!
Mom lifted the
boy into her arms and hugged him tight. She was crying and her tears
ran down to the boys blond, curly hair. Dad and I reached for the boy
as we were scared to take our eyes of him.
“My poor baby,
where have you been?!” Mom asked Martin.
“Bunny...”
The boy cried in a heartbreakingly soft voice. I started weeping
silently.
During the next
days Martin was a lot quieter than before. He did not want to talk or
play and even my dad could not get a smile out of him no matter how
hard he tried. The boy had changed. There was something off about
him, something that made me feel uncomfortable. Mom told me that
Martin slept poorly, waking up during nights, crying hysterically.
The only word the boy had said after he was found was “bunny”. I
was curious as to why he was remembering Bisque all the time. So I
kept taking him to see the bunny but he just stared the animal and
shook his head.
“Bunny!”
“I don't
understand. The bunny is right here. This is the bunny. Martin my
dear, come here”, I encouraged the boy and lifted him to my knee. I
was sitting on the grass and Bisque was right next to me, eating
happily. For some reason, he was not afraid of Martin anymore.
“Do you want to
pet the bunny, Martin?” I asked desperately. Martin looked at me
frowning.
“Big bunny.”
“What did you
say? Well, Bisque is a quite big and fat, you're right”, I
laughed.
“No. No lop.
Big.” I shook my head from side to side. I could not figure out
what he was trying to tell me.
Evening came and
we were all sitting on our porch enjoying the night. It was warm and
the moonlight was bright. Dad had made us supper in the grill and I
was still snacking away a piece of pineapple. Martin sat on my lap.
Mom had gone to fetch the laundry from the washer in order to hang it
to dry outside for the night. Dad looked at me and sighed.
“Will you look
after Martin if I clean the dishes?” He asked. I nodded but felt
sad. Would they ever really trust me again? Dad got up, gathered the
dirty plates and cups and then went inside. I licked pineapple juice
off my fingers. Suddenly, Martin moved in my lap in restless manner.
“Bunny.”
“Bunny is in
the cage, bunny is in its home”, I answered and to my surprise the
boy got angry. He pulled the tail of my shirt.
“Martin, stop!
There is no bunny here!” I raised my voice maybe too much.
“Reg. Reg”,
Martin tried to grab my attention. I looked straight into his big,
blue eyes. Then the boy lifted his chubby finger and pointed
somewhere saying:
“Big. Bunny.”
I followed his
finger and froze to my place in terror. At the tree line, there was a
tall and big figure standing, and it was wearing a black
bunny-costume.