Little White Dove and the Creekbed

Little White Dove and the Creekbed

Ohio summers were usually suffocating and hot in Knox County, and this last one was no exception, at least not while the sun was up. The scorching rays of a cloudless sun had dried up anything in the bottom of Owl Creek. The waterless ravine revealed boulders and dead tree branches. Now, evening was approaching; the last rays of daylight hid behind the trees, and filtered down, a chill crept in.

Nine-year-old Sarah Jameson, and her slightly older brother, Cal, stood on the south bank of the creekbed. They often played there, amusing themselves with nature's free toys--sticks, stones, dirt, and trees.

"Better not go too far," Cal reminded her.

"I know."

They never entered very deeply into the woods. It was step-dad's turf, and where he went with his dog, Red, to hunt for rabbits. He'd told them about how hunters set traps and caught animals. He'd said that they struggled and sometimes tried to chew their own legs off to escape. The thought sickened her.


Now, the forest spoke with the faint, echoing sounds of animal life--birds and other creatures. A sense of peace flowed over her.

Cal retrieved the rope dangling from the tree, and jumped on it. Sarah put her hand up, and squinted into the sunlight, looking back at their home near the road. Twigs snapped beneath her shoes as she knelt down by a tree; her hands peeled away dead bark from its trunk.


A song she'd heard on the radio resonated though her mind. Humming it now, a visual of Running Bear with his Little White Dove together caused the corner of her lips to turn upward. Her gaze returned to the craggy sides and down into the sandy creekbed. At least four cars stacked on top of each other could fit inside.

She turned to her brother, who was still swinging. "Aren't you afraid that you might fall in?"

"No." With a thud, he landed on the ground near her and held the rope out. "Here. I dare you."

One look at the rope, at him, the gaping expanse of riverbed, and she squelched a shiver. "Are you crazy?"

"You never try anything new. Chicken."

"Am not."

"Liar."

"Stop saying that." Her fists tightened. She tilted her chin upwards, and she managed to say. "I just don't want to right now."

“You're just a scared little sissy girl."

Her face was suddenly hot. Hmm. We'll see about that. She grasped the rope, and with a triumphant look on her face, she hopped up and flew off the bank.

The cool breeze blew through her hair and billowed out around her, as she glided back and forth.This isn't so bad. In fact, it feels like flying. "Well? What do you say now, smarty pants?"

"Okay. So, now what?" He shrugged, returning his attention to whatever he was toying with on the ground.

She came closer to the south side of the bank, and then away over and over again. She should jump, but felt unsure of what might happen should she miss and fall over the edge. She shivered, and clung to the rope.

He looked up. "How are you going to get down? You could be stuck there for the rest of your life.”


She was now hanging at a standstill over the middle of the creekbed. Her eyes searched from one side of the creek to the other. There was no way out. She looked down at the jagged-edged rocks jutting out from the surface of the river bottom. "What should I do?"

"You're stuck and it's your own fault. You're supposed to keep moving. You got yourself up there, now figure out how to get down." He growled, and kicked a rock. "Twist your hands around the rope, and wrap your legs around it."

She was thin and lithe, but her legs felt like noodles with anchors. She managed to wrap the rope around her wrist, but not without compromising her grip, losing a few inches of rope, she gasped.

His stare was hard, and his voice was mean. "Dad's going to be mad, and you're going to get a whippin'." He threw a stone at the ground.

“It was your idea. Remember?”

"You're too stupid. You never listen. It would serve you right if you fell in."

She stiffened. His words stung and traveled through her like a well-placed whip. Why did he have to say such hateful things? She struggled with the rope, regarded him; and if her eyes could shoot daggers, his death was imminent.

Gravity changed her curled up position to vertical, and her own heartbeat was in her ear. Whether she liked it or not, she had to admit that he was right. I am stupid--stupid for letting him talk me into this. She almost screamed, when her hand slid downward another inch. Between ragged breaths, she squeaked out, "I'm getting tired. It's cutting into my hand."

"I'm going back to the house."

An icy feeling shot through her. "No. You wouldn't! You can't just leave me here."

Without as much as a word, he turned on his heel and ran off, as if he was on fire. More than likely, he didn't want to be blamed in case things turned out badly. "Please stop!"


The sun was sinking fast on the horizon, and soon she'd be hanging in the dark or lying at the bottom of the creek. She wept. In the few minutes that ticked by, her thoughts focused on the song she was humming earlier--Running Bear and his Little White Dove, and how he'd jumped into the rushing water to save her. Now, there was no rushing river or an Indian brave. The pain in her hands were nothing compared to the ache in her heart; she knew -something horrible was about to happen.

Her eyes welled up with moisture. If anything, she'd be one less mouth to feed. At least she'd never have to smell the scent of death that reeked in the house after a hunt, and never again have to watch the pathetic bloodied pile of rabbits being skinned and prepared for food.

Sounds in the distance drew her attention, and then the sound of shuffling of feet. A blur of movement and she knew it was her mother, step-dad, and brother running toward her. As her mother drew nearer, her hand raised to her mouth. Now she said those oh-so-familiar words. "Oh, my God."

The ropes cut into Sarah's hands. Her face felt cold and wet from either sweat or tears--she wasn't sure which. She was losing her grip. It was time. "Goodbye Mommy. I'm falling. I’m sorry," she choked out. "I love you."

"No! Hold on, honey. Hold on as tight as you can," her mother managed to say.

Her voice took on this eerie high-pitched sound as she repeated it again, "Mommy, I love you."

“I love you too." She turned to her husband, "We have to do something."

He shot her the look--a warning. She stepped back, and bit one of her nails. He didn't say anything at first, but glanced around, surmising the situation. The voice---his voice told her, "Remember when you used to go to the park?"

She felt cold. It was hard to think, and she forced herself to focus on the idea of a trip to the park. She looked at him, puzzled. Go to the park? They never went to the park. The woods and open land were their playground, and the billy goats were their playmates. They never had human playmates. Either the children were afraid to come around or the parents told them they couldn't.

"Look at me. Sarah," he said.

She looked over at them--a blur now. "I...I can't see you."

"Listen to me, and do what I tell you. Go back and forth."

"I can't. " Her voice was shaky and weak. "I'm afraid."

"You can. Don't look down. Watch me. Do it like this."

His body was a shadow to her, but she could see it sway back and forth.

"Now you try it."

She held tight, and by sheer force, she moved a little, and then a little more. Maybe she would live to see another day after all.

"That's it. Keep doing that. Yes."

She was getting closer to the edge of the creekbed. The closer she got the faster her heart was beating.

"One more time...that's it. As soon as I say the word 'now', let go."

"Now!" He said it again. "Now!"

She closed her eyes, hoping the scary thoughts would go away. With one last deep breath, she released the rope, and hurled into the abyss of darkness.


In a timeless existence, awareness flowed over her as if in a dream. She drifted along. A sensation of warmth was comforting, except for the increasingly rapid movements.

Was she imagining that her eyes were open? She saw nothing. She was alone, and yet maybe not alone in this foggy world. And her legs--instinct told her that she should be able to feel them.

But it didn't matter; nothing did--not where she was, whom she was with, or why she was there. She settled into the warmth of the cotton candy-like land of nothingness. And soon she let the darkness take over.