Things that must be remembered, no matter how painful

Propped along the side of her tiny house was a wobbly ladder she didn't even like to use to clean the pantry, let alone painting (something she'd never done) her own house (something she'd never had) all by her lonesome (something she never wanted.)

As she sured the feet of the ladder in the soft heather below, she prepared herself mentally for the ascension, breathed deeply and calmly, and thinking about Ponies, Rainbows and other paraphernalia of pleasantries.

Climbing slowly, with her wet paintbrush in her back pocket and her pail in her left hand, the white knuckles of her right hand gave her away. First step, then the next, all five mounted one by one until she was sure she couldn't look down. Then she tilted her body in the most awkward fashion, in order, she thought to steady herself, remove the paint brush and begin her task.

To her suprise, the time passed quickly and soon she had succeeded in painting a good portion of the upper half of her tiny rancher. When she thought she would faint for exhaustion and repressed fear, she decided to finish with the current paint in her small container and call it a morning, resigned to doing something she actually liked, such as tending the garden, feeding the animals, or folding the laundry. She, so absorbed in the task at hand, barely took notice to her changing surroundings. A noise starttled her out of a workful coma. Now, more alert than she wanted to be at such a great height, she surveyed the ground below. No movement or further noise answered her search, so she continued.

Then, she felt her rickety ladder rattle at a push. Dropping the paint brush and taking care not to throw the paint in a panic, she grasped the side of the house and hugged her body close to the ladder. Hearing a snicker, she dared to look down again.

"Steady Ben, I won't drop you," Laughing, he shook the ladder again, this time, much more violently.

"DR, please, you know how scared I am up here. Let me down, please..." Her voice trailed off. For a moment, she forgot who he was and almost felt relieved that a cougar or bear hadn't been shaking her post.

"Ben, trust me," another violent shake. Another maniacle laugh. Benny had nothing left to hold on to, her stability lost, she began to retract her step from the top of the ladder.

Missing the third step, she hit the ground with a brutal thud and felt her stomach leep, her heart sink and worst of all her ankle snap.

"Ben, I told you to trust me, now look what you've done..." DR motioned to the paint she dropped, and the smudge she left on the upper portion she had just finished painting, "Don't you know how much that paint cost me?"

Tears being worthless, she hobbled inside to lick her wounds, and sulk in her own secret misery. A secret, because no one can hear you cry if they don't believe you're human.