Assignment Part III -- Opening Scene: Introduces a setting and the secondary characters, the protagonists' daughters, who have been shielded from the abuse their mother is suffering.
Annie hurried down the steep, Saltillo-tiled steps across the yard and through the Iron Gate. Her pigtails flying, she was in a rush to begin her favorite activity. With her red sandals tightly fastened, she carefully negotiated each step as she began her descent down the steep, grassy embankment.
The island sun had not yet taken its place directly overhead, and with the morning dew still on the ground, one slip would send her six year old body tumbling down the well-worn path toward the pen where her grandmother kept her prized hogs and sows.
Today, Annie was hoping for more than a glance at the sow’s newborn piglets. She eased herself down the embankment ever so slowly, arching her back so she could use her hands for support. When she reached the bottom of the little hill, she stood on her toes, but at 3 feet 4 inches tall, Annie could not see over the enclosure. So she climbed onto a cement block to get a better view. And there they were. The most adorable little things she had ever seen. Their mother was preoccupied, off to the side, eating some sort of mush the helpers brought, so all six piglets were in plain sight.
Annie swung one leg over, straddled the concrete wall and jumped down into the pen, all while keeping a watchful eye on the mother sow. She tiptoed toward the little pink piglets and when she finally got close, she leaned forward to touch them. “Wow!” she thought. Their skin was as soft and fuzzy as she had imagined. Just like the velvet dress she wore last Christmas.
But Annie had no time to linger and enjoy her tactile moment. Sensing an intruder, the sow lifted her head and snorted twice when she saw Annie. The warning sent her scurrying toward the wall, which unfortunately, she was too short to scale. Glancing around, she zeroed in on a couple of makeshift steps the helper’s son made to get out of the pen after he fed the pigs. The sow was coming, so Annie made a beeline toward them. In a flash, she stepped up, hoisted herself over the wall and seconds later, she was up and out.
She sat on a grassy area a few feet from the pigpen to catch her breath and relish her feat. Giggling with delight, all she could think about was that she had actually done what she had been dreaming about. She’d watched the piglets from a distance for several days, wondering how it would feel to touch them. And now here she was, taking it all in. It was exhilarating.
Annie could sit on the grass all day, lost in her thoughts and no one would miss her. At six years old, she was the youngest and smallest of the lot visiting their grandparents in the quiet, picturesque village of James Hill on the island of St. Michael. She often bore the brunt of the teasing, but Annie didn’t care. She had a round, button nose and they had taken to chanting “Annie button, good for nothin.” Her sister, Marge, who was four years older, would often hang about with the older cousins. That was just fine with Annie. She loved exploring on her own, doing her own thing.
Annie stood up, stretched her legs, and brushed the copper-colored dirt off her floral short pants. There were smudges on her t-shirt too, but she would worry about that later. Following a path through the banana trees, she set off toward the stream. As she moseyed along, a drumming noise drew her attention. There in the distance, a red headed bird was pecking away on the bark of a coconut tree. She stopped to observe, then continued on until she heard the sound of trickling water from the stream nearby.
Annie sat on a large, smooth rock on the edge of the stream, leaned over and peered in. She could see tadpoles and crawfish, red things with hard shells and claws, swimming about. When she gazed at her reflection, her brown eyes stared back, noticing a white barrette was missing from the end of one pigtail. Her grandmother, who was always busy, wouldn’t notice, but maybe one of her tattletale cousins would. In the reflection, she could see black and yellow butterflies dancing above her head, enjoying the morning sun. Annie dipped her hand in, and flicked the cool water on her face. The sun was getting hotter and the water felt good. A few minutes more, then she would head toward the house to see what the others were doing.
On the trek back, Annie neared the pigpens and as she passed by, she decided to take one last look. But the piglets were nursing. There was no chance she could get as close as she had earlier so she climbed up the hill and through the gate toward the house. She paused for moment to catch her breath, sweat glistening on her caramel-colored skin. After a short respite, Annie trudged to the side of the house toward the chicken coop.
When she was finally reached, she peered through the silver wire to see if she could spot the baby chicks that looked like fuzzy yellow balls. Grandma was in there collecting fresh eggs and her sister Marge was hanging at her frock as she often did. Annie pushed the door open and went in. The chicks weren’t as interesting as the piglets, but checking in on them was part of her daily routine.
Marge turned toward her as soon as Annie entered the coop.
“Annie, where have you been and how did your clothes get soiled?” she asked.
“I went to see the baby pigs, then I went down by the stream,” Annie said.
“You shouldn’t go down there by yourself,” Marge said. “You’re too little and something might happen to you. Then what would we tell mum?”
“Well, nothing happened to me, so there,” Annie said.
“This time,” Marge said. “It’s almost lunchtime so go in the house and get washed up.”