They Called Her Fangs

Alva watched the snail inch slowly across the dirt path in front of her. Her face showed no signs of emotion apart from a mechanical curiosity.

“Alva!” her mother called, “Alva! It’s time for supper.”

Alva’s gaze broke from the snail and from the corner of her eyes she looked out across the grassy field toward the house. She could see her mother standing on the porch, screen door open. Alva’s attention returned to the snail. She reached forward, peeled the snail off of the dirt, and held it up to her face to gaze at its soft underside. The snail recoiled into its shell. With her other hand, Alva poked the snail but this only caused it to retreat further. With a scientific delicacy, Alva squeezed its shell between her fingers until it started to crack.

“Alva!” her mother called out again with more fervor in her voice.

Alva looked back towards the house. She clenched her hand into a fist crushing the snail to paste and then rubbed it on the grass. She stood and trotted towards the house.

“There you are,” said her mother. “You’re filthy. Let’s get you inside.”

Alva stared vacantly at her mother.

The school bell rang and all the children shuffled outside to play. Mrs. Chattoway approached Alva and rested a hand on her shoulder. Alva started and withdrew from the teacher’s touch then quickly crammed her hands in her pockets.

“Don’t you want to go outside and play with the other children?”

Alva remained mute.

“Come on.” Mrs. Chattoway ushered Alva out the door.

The sunlight was momentarily blinding to Alva - she brought her small hands up to block the light. When her eyes refocused, she could see the other children standing opposite each other in two lines. One side was chanting.

“The needle’s eye that doth supply the thread that runs so true; I stump my tow, and down I go, All for the want of you.”

When they finished, a young boy from the opposite line charged the other group of children in an attempt to break through their line. He failed and was forced to join their side. Alva took a seat on the grass and ignored the children. The weather was warm and the gentle breeze carried the scent of summer.

“Move.”

Alva looked up and saw a larger boy glaring angrily down at her. Alva ignored him and went back to staring blankly.

“Hey, I said move. We’re going to play here.”

The boy kicked Alva in the side but she didn’t react.

“Get up.”

Alva remained stoic. The large boy bent down and gripped her by the collar of her shirt. As she was being dragged to her feet, Alva withdrew the pair of scissors from her pocket and shoved them into the boy’s neck. A scream of pain bubbled out of the boy’s mouth as he collapsed to the ground. The other children screamed and ran as Alva sat back down on the grass. The large boy writhed next to her choking on his own blood.

“We think this is the best course of action.” The bearded man in the lab coat spoke to Alva’s mother. “Her behavior is erratic and she is a danger to everyone including herself.”

Alva could hear her mother’s sobs though no intelligible words were uttered. Her mother was escorted out of the room and out of sight.

Alva lay on the bed staring up at the white lights. Her head was strapped in place and her arms were bound. She struggled against her restraints. Alva uttered a guttural scream when she saw the bearded man staring down at her. She clawed the bed sheet as hard as she could. The man disappeared and shut the door leaving Alva alone. She screamed again and again but her voice was muffled by the padded walls of the white room.

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They Called Her Fangs was written by Daniel Weinell with illustrations by Maribel Navarro.