Page 25 of Little Girls Sleeping
Her breathing was fast and heavy until she managed to control it.
Her nightshirt was soaked with sweat.
It haunted her to receive a message from the great beyond, asking for help.
She knew what she had to do; there was no other option.
She reached for the journal her aunt had given her, opened it to the first page, and began to write what was on her mind.
Saturday, 0300 hours
Tough day, but I will make it through. The vivid images and sounds from the battlefield are fading some. I miss my team. I always knew where I stood with them and we worked together. It was a closeness, a family, a tight-knit group that I never knew could exist. I couldn’t have done anything without Cisco at my side. Jenny visited me tonight in my dreams and asked me to find Chelsea…I cannot say no.
Fifteen
The sewing needle poked up through the fabric and then arced, piercing it again in an upward motion and repeating the maneuver in a slow, deliberate fashion every quarter of an inch to bind the fabric together. Each stitch was neat and mimicked the last. The steady, calloused hands were extremely nimble and able to complete the delicate work with ease, as they had so many times before.
When the needle ran out of light-blue thread, the man made a securing stitch with the short leftover string. Using tiny sharp scissors, he snipped the thread as close to the fabric as possible without piercing it, then carefully took the remaining cotton from the eye of the needle and discarded it in the trashcan. Pulling a long new thread, he wet it between his lips and carefully inserted it through the eye, securing it with a knot at the end.
Making a dress by hand was not beneath his abilities or his manhood. It enhanced his craftsmanship and kept his hands in expert form for all types of things. It also made him an intimate part of the process. It was a way for him to put his soul, his hard work, and even an occasional drop of perspiration into the fabric’s consistency.
Every dress was a work of art—no two were ever alike.
Every dress, in a specially chosen color, was made for a particular girl, who would be saved from the world’s debauchery and filth.
Every dress helped to make his process complete.
The delicate short sleeves with a slight pleating gave a modern-day fairy-tale effect. The gentle gathering of thread around the waistline created a skirt with a slight flare, but not too much fabric, to lie smoothly on the body when positioned in its final resting place. The finishing touch was the sash, neatly stitched, expertly ironed, and then perfectly tied around the girl’s waist to complete the outfit.
He enjoyed the process, but it was the ultimate goal that excited him. It gave him hope. It made him experience life: someone else’s life—an innocent life. Every day there were too many disturbing things that contributed to the loss of innocence. There was nothing that could be done except to protect the pure.
He readjusted his eyes, blinking several times and looking across the room, before continuing with the task.
The bulb in the lamp flickered three times but continued to illuminate. It was almost as if it was a distinct message in Morse code speaking only to him.
One. Two. Three…
Pause.
One. Two. Three…
Pause.
Capture. Protect. Sleep…
One. Two. Three…
Capture. Protect. Sleep…
Sixteen
Katie forced her aching body out of bed, beginning with her legs flopped over the edge of the mattress, followed by her feet pressing against the cool floor. Bones ached and muscles throbbed, each vying for her undivided attention. She had watched from the comfort of her warm bed and fluffy pillow as the day slowly began to brighten outside her bedroom window. It was gradual at first, like a volume dial, and then finally built momentum with an eye-opening illuminating wonder.
Cisco paced around the bedroom, whining his usual early-morning complaint of wanting to go outside.
“Okay, give me a minute,” Katie said in a gravelly voice.
Feeling like the hunchback of Notre-Dame, she gently moved through some basic stretches to loosen up her shoulders, back, and hamstrings. She progressed through each exercise three times before there was some relief. Then she slipped on her lightweight robe and shuffled to the sliding doors in the kitchen area, where Cisco waited patiently. She opened the doors just wide enough for the dog to squeeze through, and he shot out into the backyard and made his rounds to find the perfect location to do his business.
