The Girl Who Got Bitten By A Red Ant

There was a Girl not very tall, not very pretty, not very slim, who walked in a field of Grass and got bitten by a very red Ant. She was angry at the Ant for biting her, but she knew the Ant was not angry at her. It was just being an Ant.

The Girl wanted to be just that too, a Girl. And she contemplated on that while staring at the blades of Grass: how to be a Girl, before it was too late. She somehow felt Time was not on her side.

A gentle Breeze came to her corner of the Field, and whispered to her, It’s not just any girl you have to be. You have to be yourself.

Myself, you say? But what does that mean? I am not very tall. I am not very pretty. I am not very slim.

The Breeze touched her face and her hair. Who said those things matter?  I know you can sing. And that means everything.

Who told you that? There was no answer, for the gentle Breeze had left. A strong Wind had taken its place. It blew Flowers onto her lap, for the Girl was now sitting down. The Flowers blended with her dress, and she suddenly had Colors. Red and blue, white and green. She liked her pretty dress now. It was no longer plain. She whispered a thanks to the Wind, for its gift of Flowers.

The Wind blew Leaves all over the Field as well, and the Girl stood up. She stepped on them, listening to the strong crunch of the dry Leaves under her leather sandals. She crushed every voice that had ever said that she was not very tall, and she was not very pretty, and she was not very slim.  She shouted at the memory of the hands that had touched her not very slim body, and the eyes that had mocked her. She hopped and skipped, and then she started to dance.

She looked up. The Sun was hiding behind the Clouds. It told her, It is about to rain. Take cover under a Tree. And sing to me. I will come back when I hear your song.

So while the girl was standing, wearing her flower-printed dress, in a field of green Grass, dried Leaves, and Wildflowers, the Rain began to pour. Softly at first, touching her hair, caressing her arms, poking her feet. She embraced the Rain with her wide open arms. But the Rain grew stronger, and each drop started to hurt her skin, like needles, only she was not bleeding. She knew the Rain was not angry at her, but was just being Rain. It also washed the Flowers from her dress, which had begun to cling to her body. She remembered to run for cover.

She found an old Tree with a great big trunk. She sat on it, and the Tree’s leafy branches protected her from the rain. The tree told her, The rain was just playing with you. Did you have fun?

The Girl said, So that was me, having fun. It was all new to her. And then she laughed, like she had never laughed before. She hugged the tree, thanking it for the gift of shade and wisdom. The Rain slowed down, about to say goodbye. The Girl sang.

How wonderful your touch, how happy you’ve made me

Thank you so much, rain and wind, breeze and tree.

I have been sleeping all these years, you see.

I am awake now, and almost, almost free.

The Sun heard the Girl’s song and shone its brightest, piercing through clouds, branches and leaves, until its rays touched the Girl. Why do you say you are almost free? It is time now.

The Girl looked, and her clothes, her hair, and her skin were all dry. She smiled at the Sun. Her dress turned to the color of her cheeks. She remembered a time of Tears and Nightmares, but they could no longer hurt her. She started to walk, to hop, to skip, and to dance again.

She said goodbye to the green Field, the blades of Grass, and the pretty wildflowers.

I will sing about you, she said.  Thank you, dear Friends.