Category — Micro Stories

“Katie is a scaredy cat. Katie is a scaredy cat.”

The sandbox gang chants an endless chant of torment, perched high upon their climbing bars, a fluorescent metallic beast with spidery legs spread wide.

Pulling at her thin brown ponytail, Katie trembles. She imagines . . . If I could just—No! Her cheeks burn. She tugs at her ponytail again. It’s not right to think that.

“Katie is a scaredy cat.”

Like babies riding their momma spider’s back, the sandbox gang mills around afraid to spill themselves on the ground. Sucklings being nursed. A screeching, shifting brood against her alone.

“She’s afraid of heights.”

I’m afraid of you. There’s too many of you. You might push me. I might fall.

They begin to meow. Shrill feline caterwauls tumble over Katie, fueling her. Her eyes stare fixedly past them. She endures them. She imagines… a giant’s foot stepping on the baby spiders—squishing—twisting their limbs into odd angles, bursting their dark beady eyes.

Mum says there’s strength in numbers, whatever that means. Katie stares. But size is what matters most. She tilts her head in wonder. If only Miss Muffet knew that, she’d have squished that nasty spider.

Huffing a determined breath, she clenches her tiny fists. I’ll show‘em.

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