A little sandy-haired girl

on a pink trike

with plastic ribbons on the handlebars

was pedalling up and down the sidewalk

in front of her apartment.

Pretty soon her Mom came out and hollered for her

"Brianna! Brianna!"

but there was no answer.

Her trike was abandoned on the sidewalk.

After a while neighbors came out

and joined the search

and the police were called

and the Mom cried

and the Daddy raged

but the little sandy-haired girl

was gone.

In another apartment

in the same complex

a young man sat on his couch

watching TV

eating a Milky Way

guzzling Pepsi

when there was a knock at his door

and a little girl asked for a drink of water.

He knew instantly that she was his.

He got her the water

then gathered her up in his arms

and took her to the bedroom

and had his way with her.

The little girl screamed at first

and then she settled down to just sobbing for her Mom

and when he was done

he put his two hands around her tiny neck

and choked the life out of her.

Then he went back to his TV

waiting for dark

and time to go to work as a security guard

in a chemical plant.

The little girl was missing for years

and the police followed every lead

and the parents prayed and searched

but as time passed

they all began to realize

that she might never be found.

One night the young man

three sheets to the wind

told his bar friend

what he had done.

So the bar friend told the police.

The young man was arrested

and eventually he showed the police

where the little girl was.

There was nothing left of her

but a couple of pitted bones

because she had spent all this time

at the bottom of a vat of chemicals.

"I just hope she was dead when I dropped her in"

the young man said to the police

"because she jumped like a fish out of water

before she sank."

Of course the community was outraged

and the Sheriff said the young man gave him the willies

and everybody cried out for revenge.

"Let me after him!" the Daddy cried.

And others agreed.

"A firing squad is too good for him!"

"Gas him!"

"Let him fry!"

In court his mother pled for him.

"He's always been strange"

she said.

"He can't understand feelings.

He doesn't have a conscience.

But it's not his fault.

He was born that way."

The community pooh-poohed that

and blamed her.

The jury gave him life without parole.

The community gave out a mighty howl.

They wanted to see his eyes plucked out.

They wanted his fingernails pulled out one by one.

They wanted him to suffer.

They wanted him dead.

And so did I.

But the Pastor told us that we are commanded

to love one another

and there are no restrictions

in the Bible

on that.

There's nothing that says to love only

if the person deserves to be loved.

I was confused.

So was the rest of the community.

The commotion died down.

Even today

old as I am

and having seen and heard

many grisly horrible stories

of other children murdered

and felt the anger

mount up in me

and the sorrow

and the wondering where the Lord was

when the little one suffered

I still don't know

what the Lord would have us do

to murderers of children.

Music Playing: Final Fantasy
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