#ReedsyEncounters. "The Screamer", from the autobiographical novel "2 beagles and an ice-cream"

The sun had climbed higher, casting dappled light over the garden. The morning’s quiet had given way to the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of sparrows. The little girl lay sprawled in the thick grass, her eyes fixed on the sky as if waiting for an answer from above. The old man walked past her, dragging a ladder and a bucket behind him.

“Are you coming to help me, or are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what? Whether to forgive me or to help me?”

“I’ve forgiven you. You’re just an old man who talks nonsense. I’m deciding whether to help you. I’m very busy right now.”

“Good heavens! And what are you so busy with?”

“Can’t you see?”

The old man set the ladder down and scratched his head, puzzled.

“Well, no, not really.”

“Oh, God! I’m thinking, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Aha. And what are you thinking about?”

“About school.”

“Really?…”

“Yes!”

“Well?”

“No ‘well’!” she snapped, jumping to her feet with her hands on her hips, frowning.

“I swear, I don’t understand you. What are you thinking about so intensely regarding school that you can’t do anything else? Come on, climb up the ladder. My knees hurt, and while we pick pears, I’ll help you figure out your existential school questions.”

“Alright, but promise you won’t lie to me?”

“I promise!”

The mischievous girl darted to the top of the ladder and immediately clung to the plumpest, ripest pear.

“First of all, I want to know what all the kids do at school.”

“They sit quietly at their desks and listen to the teachers.”

“Nonsense! Well, I’m off the hook then, because I don’t know how to sit still.”

“I know, but you’ll get used to it. All kids go to school.”

“Not me! What else do they do?”

“They learn to write, read, do arithmetic…”

“See? Problem solved! I don’t need to go to school because I already know all that. What else?”

“They learn geography, history, biology, and they read stories.”

“I read stories too. In fact, I’ve written a story myself. I’ll read it to you tonight before bed, okay? And I have books about history and animals. I’m not going. I’d rather read here, in the garden. It would’ve been fun to play with so many kids, to give them tasks to do.”

“That’s enough! Understand this: you’re a child like all the others, and you’ll go to school!”

“I’m not like the others! I’m a princess! I’ve decided! I’m not going to their stupid school!”

“Oh, yes, you will! It’s mandatory!”

“I decide what’s mandatory in my kingdom and what’s not!”

“Lord, help me! What am I going to do with you, child? Don’t you understand you have to go?”

“No, I don’t! I know how to write, read, and do arithmetic! Did you forget the last time we went shopping, and that man with the pottery tried to cheat you? If I hadn’t done the math quickly, what would you have done?”

“Yes, you’re right, but you still have to go!”

“No, I don’t! You’re illogical. Why should I go if I don’t need to? You have no argument I’ll consider.”

“Lord, how will I manage with you?”

“Let’s just sit on the grass, I’m tired. Look!” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and carefully unfolded it. “I’ll read you the latest story I wrote. You know you’re the reason I started writing, right? Your stories were so boring I had no choice but to write new ones.”

The two sat down on the cool grass. The little girl rested her head on her grandfather’s chest and began to read. The old man’s eyes smiled through tears.

CHAPTER 2

TO SCHOOL?

The ripe grapes spilled over from the woven baskets, their golden clusters glistening in the autumn sun. A few bees buzzed lazily, drunk on the sweet aroma. Grandpa, perched on a ladder, carefully picked the plump bunches. Meanwhile, the little princess hummed and mimicked the bees, her small hands buried in the vine, tugging determinedly at a stubborn bunch.

“Don’t pull like that, or you’ll break the whole vine and send me flying off this ladder. Grab the stem at the knot, like I showed you, and snap it off. It’s simple.”

“It’s not simple at all! Look, I’m pulling on this knot, and it won’t come off!”

Grandpa chuckled. “Go to Grandma and ask her for some scissors before you shake all the grapes to the ground.”

“Okay. When I get back, do you want me to sing you a song or tell you my latest story?”

Before Grandpa could answer, the creak of the metal gate interrupted their exchange.

A tall, imposing figure entered—a woman with cold, Nordic blonde hair and sharp blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the air.

“I told you, you’re spoiling her too much,” the woman said, her voice cutting. “What am I supposed to do with her? How will I ever discipline her?”

She loomed over the little girl, gripping her chin tightly.

“Listen here, darling. Say goodbye to your stories and screeching songs. Pack your things and come home with me!”

“Leave me alone! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

The woman yanked the girl’s arm, shoving her toward the house.

“Pack your things and come with me NOW! I don’t have all day. I have a hair appointment, then a manicure, and tonight we’re going to the theatre. So hurry up!”

“We’re going to the theatre? Is Dad home? Grandpa, did you know?”

Grandpa lowered his eyes, descending the ladder in silence. Grandma stood in the doorway, hands tucked into her apron, her face clouded with sorrow.

The woman laughed sharply. “You think you’re going to the theatre? Oh, you silly little thing!” She bent down, gripping the girl’s chin again. “Pack. Now. Or I’ll show you what happens to little brats who don’t listen.”

“Grandpa! Grandma! Save me!” The girl’s cries grew desperate, but Grandpa remained still, his face shadowed by resignation.

“Grandpaaaa! I promise I’ll go to school if that makes you happy! Just don’t let her take me! Please, I don’t want to go with the witch!”

“What did you call me?” The woman’s hand struck the girl’s face, leaving her cheek flushed and stinging.

The girl’s small hand flew to her face, but her eyes burned with defiance. “I hate you! I hate you with all my heart!” she shouted, before bolting into the house.

“Listen, you little bitch,” the woman called after her. “You think I want to take you? If it were up to me, you’d be in an orphanage. But no! Your darling daddy insists you come to the city. Ha! Like you’ll ever fit in anywhere!”

“We’d like to keep her here,” Grandma murmured softly. “She could study in the village…”

“Fine by me!” the woman snapped. “But Peter won’t have it. He said, ‘Mary, bring the girl back, no excuses!’” She mocked the words with disdain, then turned her icy gaze back to the little girl. “Mark my words, young lady, I will teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

Inside the house, the little girl knelt by the bed, her tears soaking the blanket. “When I grow up,” she whispered through sobs, “I won’t be a princess anymore. I’ll be a queen. I WILL BE QUEEN!” She rose, planting her hands on her hips, her face set with a fierce determination.

..................................................................................................................................................................

The little girl’s defiant declaration still echoed in her mind: I will be queen! But her moment of triumph was short-lived.

“Come on, get in. No one’s going to eat you!” The woman shoved her through the door, her cold voice snapping her back to reality. Suitcases thudded to the floor, and the girl stumbled forward into the unfamiliar yet hauntingly familiar house.

She clutched a small velvet case with delicate embroidery as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The smell of polished wood and old books washed over her, a bittersweet fragrance that pulled at her heart. It was like stepping into a memory, and for a moment, the harshness of her captor's voice faded into the background.

Her gaze fell on the enormous bookshelf lining the far wall, crammed with books that seemed to watch her. “This is where Mom used to stand,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Sometimes she’d read to me, too. But Dad never let me touch the books. ‘You’re too young. Your time will come,’ he’d say, gently patting my head. Oh, how warm that touch was. It sank straight into my heart. And Mom’s arms, those were my safe place. I’d nestle in and drift off, lulled by her voice.”

The flickering glow of the fireplace drew her gaze, awakening memories of winter evenings spent curled up by its side, while the dragon within roared and spat its fiery warmth.

She glanced toward her old room. “It’s just the same. Everything’s right where it should be.”

Her mother’s scent clung to everything, the curtains, the carpets, even the air itself. She closed her eyes, drinking it in, until the velvet case slipped from her fingers. It landed softly on the floor as tears welled up and traced silent paths down her cheeks.

In that instant, she felt a shift deep within. The little country princess who had clung to fairy tales was gone, replaced by something stronger, though she couldn’t quite name it yet.

“Take these suitcases, too. They’ve been breaking my back!” The woman’s voice cut through her reverie. “Unpack and keep your room tidy. I’m sick of dusting this place for nothing. And watch your little brother. I’m off to the hairdresser.”

“Wait! What? How am I supposed to watch him?”

“You don’t have to do much! He’s in his playpen. Just make sure he doesn’t fall and hit his head, he’s got a talent for it.”

“But how do I stop him?”

“I don’t care. Sing to him, tell him one of your ridiculous stories. You’ll figure it out. Bye!” She slammed the door behind her, leaving the girl standing frozen in the doorway of her room.

I thought she loved the Screamer, the girl mused, still stunned by such a dramatic exit.

Suddenly, the house filled with the wailing cries of the baby. "Perfect. Just what I needed. Welcome home!"

Fuming, she marched toward the baby’s room, determined to confront the little dragon. She flung the door open with a bang, and the baby’s cries stopped instantly.

He pulled himself up unsteadily by the edge of the playpen, his tear-streaked eyes locking onto hers. Then, with a wide grin, he revealed two tiny teeth and stretched his arms toward her, silently pleading for a hug.

The princess’s resolve melted. Her warrior stance gave way to something softer as she approached him. Sunlight filtered through the room, dancing on his golden curls. He looked like an angel from a painting, nothing like she had imagined.

His blue, watery eyes begged for love, and his outstretched arms drew her in like a magnet. She scooped him up, and he clung to her instantly, his small body warm and trusting.

She felt his tiny heartbeat, a steady rhythm that resonated deep within her. It was a familiar warmth, the same peace she had always found in her grandfather’s embrace. But now, she realized with a quiet sense of wonder, she was the one providing it.