The Girl With The Golden Gun

The Girl With The Golden Gun

by Michelle Stiles

Annabelle was a quiet girl. Her hair was red and her soul was on fire. All she wanted was to be loved. Her parents loved her and everything but some days she felt like they did not really care. Too wrapped up in their own life issues to ask her, “Are you ok?’

Her father, Walter was a simple country farmer. He grew up with three older brothers and always felt as step behind. Over the years, his brothers moved all over the country and although they kept in touch via cell phone he missed them very much. His life now was nothing like the good ole days when they’d go hunting in the woods behind their cottage home.  Although he loved his daughter, he really wished he had a son to shoot with.

Her mother, Leslie was a baker. All those early mornings rolling dough so she could “roll in the dough”. She was rather successful in her small business, “Sweet Cakes”. She baked cakes for all occasions like Sweet 16s and weddings.  She was a true talent and knew that love was the best ingredient.  All her cakes and pastries were made from scratch.

The family owned a small farm. Leslie used the chickens’ fresh eggs in her recipes. Annabelle had a special connection with the animals. They weren’t judgmental and rude like humans. Walter on the other hand, saw animals as nothing much more than profit makers and food. He absolutely loved to hunt and would keep taxidermies of his kills. They would eat venison on a regular basis. Leslie would prep the meals with tender loving care. They always came out delicious—savory without being too salty. She could really burn some pans. 

One night at dinner, Annabelle was feeling blue. She hardly touched her plate and tears were formed in her eyes. Seeing her daughter’s sadness, Leslie tapped her plate and said, “What’s the matter sweetheart?”

Leslie looked up and said, “Nothing Momma, I just feel alone.”

“But we’re right here baby. “ Walter interjected.

“Walter…” Leslie snapped. She could see that Annabelle was serious. Walter just hushed up and continued eating his venison meatloaf.

“How’s about we bake some dessert together? Just you and me Annabelle.” Leslie suggested.

Annabelle just rolled a pea around on her plate with her fork. Without looking up she said, “But we do that all the time. I want to do something different.”

A bit offended, Leslie just looked down and continued to eat her meal. Walter saw how Annabelle’s reaction hurt his wife’s feelings so he sat up straight, looked Annabelle in the eyes and said, “You know what Annabelle, your mother and I are trying here. Could you please at least attempt to be nice? How about you come shooting with me sometime?”

Annabelle looked up and snuffed her nose. “I don’t want anything to do with hurting innocent animals!”

“We don’t have to go hunting. We can just shoot soda cans in the backyard.” Walter suggested.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea Walter.” Leslie exclaimed.

Coming around, Annabelle smirked and said, “I guess we could give it a try.”

So after dinner, Walter and Annabelle went out back with a couple of guns and pairs of earphones while Leslie washed the dishes. Since Annabelle was only twelve years old and never really shot before, Walter gave her his old gold BB gun he used as a kid. Meanwhile he used his 44. He taught her how to aim and fire with the BB. She picked up on it quite quickly.

After a couple practice shots, Annabelle was really getting the hang of it.  Her frown had turned upside down. She was actually having fun. It also made Walter very happy to see his daughter enjoy shooting. The way they bonded over guns reminded him of the camaraderie between him and his brothers growing up. He had the realization that he did not need a son to be happy—Annabelle was more than enough. 

As they finished up the last of the bullets, Leslie came out with a fresh-baked strawberry rhubarb pie and vanilla ice cream.  The three of them ate their dessert on the back porch with the smell of gunpowder in the air and couldn’t be happier.

                                             The End.