Mary had a Little Lamb

For the love of my life, I couldn’t fathom as to how this innocuous poem had the ability to change my destiny for the worse. Here I was, in my attic, in the middle of a winter night clad in nothing except my flimsy nightgown and staring at the strange message up on the wall.

Mary had a little lamb

It was scrawled with a red crayon, a part of my brain snubbed at the atrocity the abomination caused to the beautifully white-washed walls but the saner part burnt with questions.

One being the prime of all though it could possibly have no answer: What the hell???!!!!

“Mary had a little lamb,” I mumbled to myself, as if the words said out loud would bathe me in the divine light of knowledge.

Nothing happened.

I shivered at the odd draft of air from the slightly open window.

I rose up shakily to my feet to latch up the window—it was a good thirty feet drop so apparently the artist of this abomination was still in here somewhere.

I should have been scared—but I was just annoyed.

I was tired and I was cold and God knew how badly I wanted to snuggle into my covers and snore away to oblivion. But no, I was destined to patrol in my own house like a freaking intruder to catch the person in question.

I sighed.

I stepped out of the attic, locking the door noiselessly behind me. I tiptoed down the stairs, revelling in the sudden warmth of the house—the thermostat controlled the temperature of the house, but not of the attic.

The house was dark, save for the occasional slivers of the moonlight which lit up the house eerily, robbing the scenery of its colour. I managed to get myself noiselessly into the kitchen and armed myself with the biggest knife in the vicinity.

Come at me, you jerk—let’s see who’s boss!

I held on to the knife with my both hands like a lifeline—afraid to letting it go.

A subtle noise from the drawing room caught my attention.

Baaaa…..

Hold on….a lamb???

What the…

I inched forward into the living room, keeping myself to the shadows. The shelves and the TV stand threw creepy-looking shadows on the walls.

I found the source of the bleating sound near the sofa—it was a tiny lamb soft-toy, bleating away.

I sighed before tensing up again.

Mary had a little lamb…

I lifted the lamb with shaking hands as I fathomed as to how it appeared in my living room in the first place.

That was when I realized that the main door was slightly ajar.

The intruder… walked in…through the main door??!!

A shadow fell over me and as I turned, I came face to face with someone whose face was hidden underneath a hoodie.

“Mary had a little lamb,” the intruder hissed as white hot pain seared from my chest and something soaked my shift.

Did I scream?

**

“KINDERGARTEN KILLER” STRIKES AGAIN

The latest victim, Mary Ashborn, was found stabbed through her heart in her living room, clutching a lamb soft-toy. Mary had a little lamb was scrawled on the impeccable white-washed walls of the room. Primary investigations have not yielded anything as of yet but the police are very confident that it is the work of the “Kindergarten Killer” who has lately been targeting kindergarten teachers and left behind nursery rhymes at the crime scene. This is the sixth victim in two months and the police are no closer in finding the culprit.

**

“Say it again!”

“Mary had a little lamb…sorry miss, I do not remember…!!!”

The latter, a little child of three, cried noisily as the teacher slapped the child sharply across the cheek.

“You are a dunce…can you not remember even a rhyme?? Because of you, the entire class has to miss their story-time!”

The child wailed as the others muttered away in anger and exasperation.

“So stupid…so pudgy…”

“Always has snot up the nose…”

“So yucky!!!”

The child cried all the more harder.

**

Seven years later, the kindergarten teacher disappeared.

Three weeks later, her body was fished from the river—she was hammered to death.

Ten years later, the child—now a teenager, disappeared, never to return.

**

Twinkle Raheja was sitting in the staffroom, checking through the notebooks. The news about the “Kindergarten Killer” had reached her ears too but she was not worried much.

After all, she knew her rhymes now, didn’t she?

Twinkle twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high

Like a diamond in the sky

__END__