THE AMBUSH They lie in wait on the playground-- a pack of wolves circling and sniffing the weakest lamb. Children can be so cruel, my mother says, Just hold your head high and don't stoop to their level. You are better than that. But their sneering faces and taunting words pierce my heart. I square my shoulders. I face the mob to walk among them. Jabs become physical now-- blows to my stomach, my face, my heart. Ripped blouses muddied shoes broken glasses bruised soul. The saving bell chases us from the playground. The safety of the classroom beckons. But no harbor can be found, even there, for withering glances and taunting whispers hang above the neat rows and bent heads, and the stench of cruelty swirls about our feet. Derisive laughter echoes in my head. Fear and lonliness course through my body. I clutch my stomach... double over with pain. The wolves laugh with bared teeth as they close in for the kill. And one small girl-- one gentle, sensitive, hurting girl--is devoured. --Loreeta Leer What's On Update This free script provided by JavaScript Kit