Cannibal Attack

When we were ages three, five, six and eight, Deb, Rhonda, Sherlyn and I went with some friends to a community church for an afternoon of singing and dinner-on-the-ground. 

As the singing was going on we girls decided we were thirsty, and got permission to go to the old pump for a drink of water. We would take turns pumping the handle while the others used a cup or cupped our hands to catch the water. 

We were so intent on getting a drink that we didn't notice Red joining us at the pump, at least that was the name people in that community called him. 

Red was a large man with reddish hair, who was walking the roads barefoot every time we went through that community. His feet must have been a size eighteen. As far as I know Red didn't talk and seemed to have the mentality of a young child. 

Before we realized that Red was at the pump with us he grabbed my forearm with both of his hands and started smelling of it. Why he was smelling of my arm, I don't know, but he did it in the same way a hungry boy would smell of a chicken leg before devouring it. 

I started to yank my arm away and run, but quickly thought that Red might get one of my little sisters if I did. So thinking quickly, I yelled at them, "Run!" and as they ran toward the church I yanked my arm free and sprinted in behind them. 

Deb, Rhonda, Sherlyn and I were breathless as we entered the church. We had just made a mad dash to safety from a possible cannibal attack and were happy to have all our extremities intact.