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Lying on a stained cardboard mat, the fetid scent of urine embracing her, the tiny angel slept. Moonlight reflected off the tiny ice crystals on her eyelashes. Her tattered sweaters wound about her, the torn crinoline she was so proud of over the threadbare jeans. Unselfconsciously her tiny fingers grasped the frozen hand of the woman sprawled beside her. Needle tracks lined the woman's arm, the bloat of death swelling the slight frame. The little girl’s purple lips twitched as she slept, dreaming. And in her dreams she was...
A princess, with a shiny plastic tiara and pink tulle crinoline. She danced around the living room as her mother laughed from the couch. Her eyes sparkled clearest blue, her cheeks ruddy from her play, her golden curls bounced against her shoulders.
"Come on, Sarah. It's time for your bath," her mother said.
A bath, water that came right from the faucet! And it was hot! The little girl smiled in anticipation of the warm water enveloping her, her mother's soft hands putting sweet smelling things on her hair to make it clean. The sweet scent of apples and raspberries always made her hungry but that was okay, because there was a whole room just for food.
Fresh food, bright yellow bananas and crisp apples, bread without mold and meat in pinks and reds. Sparkling cold water pouring from the tap like miniature rainbows. And sometimes, just sometimes, there would be a special treat just for her. Doughnuts glistening with sugar glaze, oatmeal cookies, or even sweet chocolate bars just for little Sarah.
And after the bath it would be bedtime. Bedtime in her own warm bed, with fleece blankets and soft pillows. And her mother would kiss her forehead and read her a story about Cinderella or Snow White and she would snuggle down knowing that she was the luckiest princess in the world.
The sun slithered in over the garbage and grime of the alley to fall on the little sleeper. Her closed eyes shifted; soon she would awaken to find the warmth stripped from her mind as it had long ago been stripped from her body. The shadowy figure leaned down over her. Better to take the dreamer in sleep rather than in the nightmare of reality. Even Death is not so cruel.
And when the man came to empty the dumpsters later that day, he saw a grotesque beauty in the pose of the dead mother and child. A horrific parody of the Madonna; the loyalty of a child.
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FEATURE STORY 
