OK, I wrote this at 5:30 in the morning when I couldn't sleep and it just came to my head. It's not meant to be believable, just a quick fable-like thing. I don't know, please review, tell me if it's horrible.

Once there was a little girl. She was a huge girl, a nasty little girl. She always went around with a tennis ball, never a racquet, just the ball. She'd throw the ball at dogs, no not to them, at them, would hit them square in the nose. Despite the nastiness of that little girl, she always got what she wanted. Like her favorite pair of rollerblades. She wouldn't go anywhere without them. It was a strange sight, seeing her. She wore a tiny pair of red shorts, and a tiny green tank top, but she'd also be loaded up with a bulky pair of kneepads, elbow-pads, and a turquoise-spotted helmet. Not that they helped her at all when she got in the accident; not one bit.

Now this girl, you must know, was the proudest little girl you'd ever seen, too proud for her own good. Others would speak to her out of the kindness of their hearts but she wouldn't respond. She'd just stick her nose up in the air and walk by.

One day, like most others, she was skating around, throwing tennis balls at dogs, nothing new. But, when crossing the street she saw a little walnut in the road and became mesmerized by it. She dropped her tennis ball and bent down to examine the nut. It was a curious thing she did, bent down in the road in those damn rollerblades. "Curious" was the last word that came to the truck driver's mind, "move" probably being first. Sure, he saw the girl in the road, how couldn't he? But he was already way behind schedule with his deliveries and he couldn't be bothered to stop. So he laid his hand on the horn, honking and yelling, anything to get her to move. But she didn't react and she didn't pick up the walnut, she just stayed bent over in the road, staring.

That girl made an awful splat that day; there was so much of her it was hard not to. Her funeral was full, packed with people sharing their grief. No, grief was the wrong word for what they shared that day. Her parents were the only ones who grieved. Guilt is more accurate. After all, how well can you feel about yourself when you don't even notice the girl you see everyday is deaf?

Again, please tell me if it sucks or not.