Crate

by Jim Wisneski In his dream, he opened the crate before throwing it into the water, freeing the little girl that was trapped inside. He woke, his cheeks holding some dried tears as his mind played the sad sound of a young girl crying over and over. If he’d only just walked away after dropping the crate instead of standing on the bridge watching it fall. That’s when she yelled. From inside the crate. The cry only started to haunt him once her picture was posted on the news. A picture of her in angel wings, with dark hair draped over one shoulder. She was beautiful and he killed her. Darrell looked off the edge of the bed as the moonlight shined on a bag of money. One hundred thousand dollars to be exact. That’s what the little girls life was worth. There was a second man on the job, the driver, a man named W. Winston. This was of course a false name just like Darrell’s name of Chester K. The rest of the night was restless – if Darrell was asleep, he was standing on the bridge watching the young girl float in the water. When he was awake, he heard the crying. When morning took over, Darrell zipped up the bag of money and by the time he made it to the bridge, all he heard was the crying. It was so loud, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. Darrell stood on the bridge and held the bag of money. The little girls crying was greater than the sound of the rushing water below him. From the corner of his eye he saw her. The girl. She was standing on the shore, her tiny white angel wings strapped to her back. Darrell smiled. He pointed and waved. She’d survived. The crate broke in the water and she swam to shore. That was two weeks ago. No way she was alive. Darrell unzipped the bag and threw it off the bridge. The money scattered in the wind and floated all around. There, Darrell thought, take it back. Take it all back. The little girl pointed at Darrell. She smiled and a tear ran down her cheek. She waved her tiny hand for Darrell to step forward. Okay, Darrell thought. Without blinking or thinking, he stepped off the bridge. As he fell to the cold, rocky water, all he could hear was the sound of the little girl crying.