literature

Ninja Mum

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Literature Text

A short story by Christina Nordlander

Rietta’s Mum doesn’t have a car, and they don’t have a CD player or an Xbox in their house like the other kids. Mum’s name is Ulla. She works in a call-centre and comes home late, so that Rietta is almost the last one left at the daycare centre, and has short straight hair that doesn’t shine. That doesn’t matter, because nobody else’s mum is a ninja.

In the afternoon, Rietta stands in the daycare centre lobby, shoes tied and jacket on. If she stands at the right angle she can look out the strip of window next to the door and see Mum opening the gate. Most other kids go home by themselves along the dirt paths, but Mum always comes to pick her up, even though she’s almost nine. If Rietta was to go home before she gets there she might be angry, or sad. But she lets Rietta go out alone outside of school hours, as long as she’s got the knives.

As soon as they get home to the terraced apartment Rietta has to go upstairs and change into her gym clothes, baggy pants and the Frozen T-shirt with blue glitter. They train all afternoon and sometimes after supper. Sometimes Mum breaks off and asks if she’s got homework. Her eyes are soft and dark those times. But Rietta usually says no, unless the training that day is hard enough to hurt. She’s meant to become a warrior, not to sit upstairs doing math problems.

Sometimes they go jogging together, or else she does press-ups and sit-ups. The most exciting thing is when they have martial arts training in the living-room. Mum has put in gym mats on the hardwood floor, and the fence is so tall nobody can look in through the windows. Mum uses a bendy rubber knife that has been part of a pirate outfit, but nowadays Rietta gets to use a real one. If Rietta comes injured to school, people will notice, Mum says. It’s easier for a grown-up to hide her wounds.

Other days she trains Rietta in how to knock the bottom out of a bottle against the sink rim, turning it into just a pipe of shards, or aiming for the soft pit below the ear if all her weapons are short. Sometimes she trains her to fight without weapons. She takes home books about the human body with drawings on glossy paper that smells good, and points to all the soft spots.

“If it’s a man, you can hit him in the groin,” she says. “He won’t just fold over and swear like on the TV shows, no, if you hit hard enough he might pass out or throw up. If it’s a woman you’re better off aiming for her stomach, but she would hurt if she got kicked between the legs, too. Just not as much. But if you’ve got a knife, you can cut the femoral artery, it’s here and here. A lot of people don’t know that you can bleed to death if you get stabbed in the thigh.”

Rietta has to hit Mum in order to learn and get better. She doesn’t show that she doesn’t want to do it. The first few times Mum had to attack her first. That makes it easier to hit back. Your body is like the pogo rides in the playground on their hard springs, Mum says. If anything hits it, it bounces back.

Rietta gets a few hits in, but Mum shoves her over and puts her dry, slightly wrinkled hands on her throat. That means she loses.

“Defend yourself!” Mum complains. ”You’ve got nails, you’ve got teeth. You can fight!”

She hugs her instead of removing her hands. Her face is nestled warmly into Rietta’s shoulder so that Rietta can hardly hear her when she says:

“You’re not her.”

THE END
A very short story. Rietta's mum isn't as rich or pretty as the mothers of the other kids, but she trains her daughter to fight.

Warning for implied child abuse.
© 2015 - 2024 Cyberheinrich
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Yonah-design's avatar
Hey ! Who is she talking about in the last sentence ? It was funny but, for my part, i prefer have an xbox and friends to play with ^^