Big Bunny

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.

“BUNNY!”

“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.