Bonnie's Death(revised)

An angel tells the story of her death

"Well aren't you awfully quiet, dear. What's your name?" a girl with red, wavy hair approached me. Her halo seemed more luminescent than mine, and her eyes were a light brown and bursting with life and wonder. She reminded me of a corpulent Pippy Long Stockings. She had chubby cheeks, a large forehead, thick brows, and her wings were teaming with feathers; many of which were blue in tint.

 

"Oh, me? I'm just..."

 

She interrupted.

 

"You must forgive me, where are my manners? I'm Kate. And as for yourself? 

What brings you here?"

 

"I'm," I attempted once more.

 

"What brings you here?" she asked again, twirling my braids between her fingers. Her hands felt soft. And Kate seemed more interested in my background than my actual name and identity.

 

"Well," my story went, "I was walking with a man in the park. He seemed nice, had brown hair and what caught me most was his eyes. They were green. In my neighborhood, not too many guys had green eyes or upheld themselves the way he did. He wasn't dressed too different. A white shirt, plain as milk, that outlined his abs, and he wore basket-ball shorts that swished. I presumed he was 19 maybe; 20 at the max. 

 

He appeared to have come from nowhere, wafted my way by the wind it seemed. He noticed the trouble I was having  flying my kite, and started conversation from there, overlooking that I was fourteen. This was probably since I could pass for a sophomore in high school. He called himself Hoodsie. I never questioned it.

 

After a few tugs and pulls and failures I decided to fly my kite on a later date. This didn't bring me down. Hoodsie was pro at keeping conversation going. He told me stories of life in California; my eyes became saucers with fascination. He spoke of sushi rolls and Asian cuisine, how to tell apart Chinks and Japs. I mentioned I was half Korean and this seemed to entice him. Then we discussed plays and bands. 

 

Minutes became 2 hours and soon it was near noon. The sun spitting down at us and I was growing weary. I skipped school that day, and that meant no Breakfast Pizza with "two fruit items" for me. I wanted to ask for a lunch break, but didn't to avoid seeming childish. Finally, he suggested we stop at a bench. I jumped at the offering. While I sat, Hoodsie just danced about. His hair flopped this way and that, his limbs all about, his glasses sliding off his face. "

 

By now Kate's eyes spoke something new. At first she had an obnoxious air to her that screamed ignorance: "I liked braids therefore I must know of a trap-house, My lips were full and that meant I must get around the block, well c**k." It annoyed me, therefore I felt compelled to enlighten her. She didn't know any better. What was seen on television shows like Jerry Springer and Maury, is what she knew. Nothing else.

But something had changed. She was now aware by my tone this wouldn't pan out as expected, as the statistic she assumed I was. Of course death hardly ever involves butterflies and rainbows and fruity cereal, but my story was different. More than she could imagine. And the level of severity in my voice had increased. She offered me a sandwich. I declined. 

 

I resumed,

 

That's when he performed his next trick: back-flipping into a five or six consecutive summer salts. 

 

"Watch as the amazing Hoodsie crashes into a tree!" I narrated, jokingly.

 

"Not gonna happen," he flashed me a look then smiled.

 

I wasn't too far off. The stunt landed him into a mound of dirt with tufts of grass. 

 

I couldn't keep from laughing.

"Told you so!" I said in sing-song. "Told you so! I told you so!"

 

He brushed the earth and glass clippings from off his shorts while thanking me, picking himself from off the ground.

"Thanks" he grouched when finally up, "I appreciate the thought."

I guess he expected me to lift him up. 

 

"Oh, never that." I would have told him if he were to have asked. "You have two perfectly good hands, dear."

 

Dear? Babe? Bro? I excogitated future pet names. Since in my mind, we were practically going steady. Walks through the park? That is what couples did right?

 

"Thanks Bon'ifa!" He shouted again, fishing for a "You Welcome" or something.

 

Hoodsie responded sarcastically, bowing, poking fun at my Asian background. Even though knew I was only half. And my hair and light brown complexion would certainly vouch for me. 

That's when it hit me.

"Bon'ifa?" I replied startled, frightened. Simultaneously, a dry heat overwhelmed my body and my throat became parched. My insides became algid. My hands were trembling. It's safe to say I was scared shitless.

"Yes?" Hoodsie seemed unaware of my anxiousness. His voice had smoothed from an insincere thank-you to a mellow tone, almost robotic. 

I pressed the entire upper row of my teeth against my bottom lip and stared. I managed to yelp a firm sounding reply, "That's not my name."

"Sure it is, Bonnie, what do you mean?" Fear had paralyzed me by now. I couldn't move, and I couldn't squirm. All I could do was sink, and sink fast into the quicksand I had landed myself in. 

"That's not what you said the first time. You called me Bon'ifa, and that's not my name." My words spat as fast as my hastening heart rate. "That's not the name I introduced myself to you as. It isn't! Earlier over there I asked you refer to me as Bonnie."

 

I mustered the scarce trace of courage left in me and asked, calmer now, rehearsed, "Hoodsie, how do you know my name?"

 

Hoodsie became unresponsive. I watched as his hand clench on something buried within his pocket.The veins in his wrist, bulging. 

 

Quickly, my voice screeching now, I screamed, "Hoodsie! Who sent you here?" 

 

Hoodsie acted without hesitation. With the strength of a ram he smashed his phone against my ear, leaving a gash.

And I bled to death right there in the park. He raped me first. My shirt, my shorts, my undergarments, peeled off like the skin of an orange. And after sampling my fleshy bits, he spit me out like the seeds. And he punched me twice - frustrated that my hair wasn't silky or long enough to manage a decent grip on. Then my body was chucked in a bush, and my kite was still wound around my wrist.

"Hoodsie was sent after me. Why? Who knows? There was no way I could have seen it coming, and I can't even imagine why. That's how I died, dear: In the Suburban Park where no harm could be done, far from gangs and criminals and guys violating probation, miles from strip joints and bars, near a fountain, and wet grass that crunched when you stepped on it, on a sunny afternoon."

 

"So does that answer your question?" I posed, staring her straight in the face.

 

Kate nodded. She tried comforting me through an innocent hug. Immediately I wanted out. Her embrace was the equivalence of tangoing with a man made from salami or a girl made from canned vegetables left overnight in a freezer.

 

She wasn't the same angel that entered the room moments ago; the one who had offered me half of her tuna sandwich. Not Kate with the golden halo, whereas ours were all a brick-yellow. Not the one with the near blue wings, and eyes that smiled, booming with curiosity. Those light brown eyes that had drilled me with questions on trap-houses and life in the hood. Not her.

 

Her cheeks had lost their rosiness. Buoyancy had been stripped away from her. Indeed it was a pity. But it was something that needed to be done.

 

 

"I'm sorry," she paused, releasing me, brushing my braids from off my name tag, then forming the letters off the tag into sounds that sounded... nice, "Bon'ifa." She stammered.

 

"Call me Bonnie, dear. It's what I prefer."

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

keep detailing from here..."my kite was still around my wrist...."????thats how I died dear?????purpose of the statement????really ending it there?

[Larry Dyson]

well the attack comes from the left field..not bad but a little anxt causing a hard blow to the head...I was raped and it did feel a bit like that...the first time...I liked the way you detailed the story at first...but you stopped and changed after the first head shot....try detailing the viciousness of the attack...you have a great start for a real horror piece...what do you think?

[Ethyl Spirits]

My comment got cut off D:
But as I was saying, thanks for taking the time to drop a comment :) I appreciate it. Honesty :)

[Ethyl Spirits]

Grrr, why'd you hate the story? But thanks

[Harley Ann]

Don't tell the others...but this is one of the only few stories that has kept my attention through the whole thing. Really enjoyable, wonderful imagery. I hate the story, but loved reading it from you, if that makes sense...