Thea’s Jamaican Childhood : Short Cut Draw Blood

Mich and Nicky were two All-Age School best friends who should have gone home long time ago since the morning shift had let out at noon. But their desire to have fun would not allow them to head straight home from school because they had to visit Third World district to play on the swing-song. What a wonderful swing it was going up and down, feet in the air, and hair bubbles smashing each other as their hair braids extended from the hair clips, and moved in varied compass directions.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” They exclaimed while taking turns to push each other on the swing.

Now it was 5pm and time flies when having fun! Both realized that it was much too late now and to head home on their journey from Third World to First World district, decisions had to be made.

“Mek we tek a short-cut. Mi know a quicker way by the gully.” Mich said. Nicky quickly agreed.

“Lawd mi madda a go kill mi! We have to come up wid something to say.” Nicky devised. “Mek we tell har she we were studying at the library.”

So Mich and Nicky decided that it was best to construct a plan on what to tell their moms when they got home while walking on the gully bank via the shorter route they called, “short-cut.”

Throwing rock stones at the little fishes in the algae infested water  and attempting to pick the half ripen Julie mangoes smiling on Ms. Brown’s mango tree in her front yard, fun was another thing Mich and Nicky could not miss out even when taking a short-cut. Upon making a right turn in the direction of home, a man stood grinning his 32 half butter colored teeth standing in brown 1978 pants and shirtless, exposing his partially hairy and wrinkled chest. They quickly attempted to walk past his house which they  realized he had his grill on the verandah wide open and front door wide open too as he stood by his open gate looking presumptuously at them.

 A tingling of fear gripped their hearts as they walked by realizing that his 1938 pants fly was open revealing his wrinkled hung over private parts, deliberately positioned for their too young 11 year old eyes to view. Simultaneously, the wrinkled old man made a swift attempt to grab at their arms like when a farmer plucks weeds from his fields. Luckily, the wrinkled old man missed their arms by the grace of God, and nearly had a hold onto their school uniforms. Only thought in their minds at that point, was to take off running-foot in hand.  They sprinted faster than Usain Bolt, never looking behind at what could have been the end of their innocence. With fear gripping their entire beings of the illusion that the perverted old man was running behind them, they ran and ran and ran.

Miles down the road they stopped near their houses to catch their breaths; Mich looking at Nicky,  Nicky looking at Mich. In an unspoken language, they walked home expeditiously never saying a word to each other; and thanking God in heaven for saving their little lives, from the man in the 1888 brown pants and his perverted agenda. It became more transparent to them that the wrinkled old man’s pants became older and older in age as the situation became uglier.  Nonetheless, they didn’t care one bit anymore as thoughts of fun, library, and swing-song dissolved. They vowed never to leave school for the playground again but, to head straight home because short- cut for them was far too an expensive price to pay.

About the Author
Thea B. is a native Jamaican and aspiring writer who enjoys reading and writing as hobbies. She loves to explore and emphasize the beauty of Jamaica and to tell fictional and non-fictional stories from her childhood or about life in general. She is currently writing a novel and is attending graduate school in New York.

About the author

Thea B.