Cock Robin Meets Mrs. Sparrow

A tale of barnyard vengeance...

Gibberish: Flash Fiction Friday - Pinpricks

February 28, 2025

Scoot

’s Assignment: A story about a long day when light fell like pinpricks, including the phrase, “You don’t understand” and a character who is lying about something.

Highlighted in FFF - In the Dark (March 7, 2025) 🤗

Photo by Arib Neko on Unsplash.

Cock Robin Meets Mrs. Sparrow

“Who killed Cock Robin?

I, said the Sparrow,

with my bow and arrow,

I killed Cock Robin.”

-- British Nursery Rhyme

It was the night before the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, but Robert Crumpet was not the sort of person to  care about such things. At the moment, his mind was filled to capacity with the imagined lustful details of what he would soon be doing to the woman who'd foolishly agreed to meet him in the abandoned barn. Though a nasty surprise awaited him: He could not know that his young, innocent victim did not exist. Someone older, wiser, and far more dangerous awaited him in the dusty gloom of the hayloft. Someone armed with a heavy brickbat. As he eagerly climbed the ladder to the loft, the last thing Robert expected was a heavy thump upon his evil head, but then he thought no more.

By the time he’d begun to awaken, morning had come. Sunbeams found their way through cracks in the roof, and the light fell like pinpricks onto his skin. His skin...? He was suddenly wide awake, looking down at himself and realized that he was buck naked, with his hands tied to a post behind his back and his legs splayed wide, tied securely to metal rings set into the floor. His head ached like the dickens, but he soon forgot the pain when he looked up and noticed the slightly built, middle aged woman, with a brightly feathered rooster perched on her left hand and a short, but very sharp arrow clutched in her right; a sheathed knife hung at her waist. The concentrated hatred in her eyes froze his blood.

“Good Morning, young Robin. I am Mrs. Sparrow. We've never met, but I know all about you.”

“What? What is going on?” Robert sputtered angrily, “Let me loose!”

Mrs. Sparrow smiled grimly. “All in good time, young Robin. But first you need to answer some questions for me. And you’ll need to tell me the truth. If you lie, you'll need to deal with Bo here,” she said, nodding towards the rooster. “He's a nice boy, generally, but he does get a bit vicious when there's blood involved.” She held up the arrow, “That's where this old relic comes in.”

“What the hell do you think I did? Please, let me go! And what's with this ‘Robin’ crap?”

She looked hard at him. “I don't think anything, I KNOW, young Robin. As for the ‘Robin crap,’ ‘Robin’ is short for ‘Robert,’ after all. I know who you are, Robert Crumpet.” Her voice became deadly calm. “So tell me, young Robin: What did you do two nights ago?”

Robert stared witlessly, trying to figure out how much this woman could possibly know. He had to make something up, but the blow to his head slowed his thinking more than usual. “I... I was at home… watching TV,” he finally stammered.

Mrs. Sparrow shook her head. “You don't understand, young Robin. I am Jessie's mother. Don't pretend you don't know who she is. I was frantic when Jessie didn't come home. I was desperate. So I looked through her computer. That's how I discovered her plans to meet you here. That's how I know she is dead. That's how I know you killed her. All I want from you is a confession.” She stared at him with her frozen eyes. “And you will confess about the others as well. So quit lying. Your so-called manhood depends upon it.”

That's when Robert saw the similarity of this woman’s features to those of the young girl he'd raped and killed two nights previously. Her face was lined, and the hair at her temples had begun to grey, but the family resemblance was unmistakable. He shook his head violently. “No, no, I didn't, I swear!”

Mrs. Sparrow stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Then she began to softly hum the tune, ‘Who killed Cock Robin.’ Abruptly, she walked towards him, humming all the while. She bent and used the arrow to poke the tiniest nick in Robert's big toe, causing a few drops of blood to flow towards the floor. Then she put Bo down on the ground beside him. The big rooster spotted the blood and immediately began to furiously peck at the wound. That's when Robert began to scream…

Mrs. Sparrow picked Bo back up. “That was just a little demonstration, young Robin. I assure you, my Bo and arrow may be small, but - eventually, at least - well, they can be deadly. You'd best confess.”

Robert was a coward at heart. He knew that this terrifying, tiny woman wouldn't hesitate to allow her small feathered monster to slowly peck him to death. He told her everything. He didn't know all of their names, but he could remember where all the bodies were buried. There were fourteen. Fourteen beautiful young women, raped and murdered and buried alone in the woods. Fourteen souls who’d had life stolen from them before it had barely begun.

Valiantly controlling her emotions, Mrs. Sparrow turned and carefully stowed her gear into a backpack. When he saw the video recorder, Robert gave a bit of a start, but calmed as she lied, “Just insurance, young Robin.” Then she unsheathed the knife, and walked back towards him. He stiffened as she bent towards him, but she merely tucked it down between the rope and his hand. “It will take a bit of time, but a clever lad like you should be able to work yourself out of this. I hope I never see you again... Cock Robin.” She chuckled mirthlessly as she donned the backpack and tossed Bo over the edge of the railing so he could fly down to the ground on his own steam. After she climbed down the ladder, Robert heard the door slam, and she and her perfidious pet were gone.

Robert made quick work of the ropes. He glanced at the knife and realized that it was his - he'd lost it after killing Jessica Sparrow. He wondered briefly why her mother had returned it to him... maybe she’d just decided not to turn him in? He found his clothing neatly folded in a corner and quickly dressed. Then he tucked the knife into his waistband, climbed down the ladder, and stepped outside.

The farmyard was full of people, townsfolk and reporters, all shouting and pushing, but held back by the police cordon. There was no escape. These people clearly somehow knew all about him and were out for his blood. He did not resist arrest; at this point, a cell was his only safe option. Only later did he learn that Mrs. Sparrow had live-broadcasted the entire ordeal, in addition to tricking him into practically handing the murder weapon over to the police. Young Robin would be imprisoned for the rest of his life.

Of course there is no happily ever after, for this is not that kind of story. The parents of the murdered girls took some small comfort from the fact that the murderer had been brought to justice - but it didn't bring their daughters home. Mrs. Sparrow returned to her quiet, peaceful life. The townsfolk held her in more respect than before, though some of the men were quite frankly terrified of her. For the rest of her life, Mrs. Sparrow visited the site of Jessica's murder on each summer solstice and softly sang ‘Who killed Cock Robin’ to Jessie’s spirit. It had been her daughter’s favorite bedtime song.

In prison, Robert Crumpet was not popular. He was often treated to a more raucous rendition of ‘Who killed Cock Robin,’ belted out in loud, husky voices. The men always lost the thread of the nursery rhyme, as they convulsed in laughter whenever they got to the part when the sparrow confessed to killing Cock Robin with her bow and arrow. Young Robin never laughed with them. Nightmares haunted his every night for the rest of his miserable life, dreams in which a small, fierce woman with a bright, bloodyminded rooster chased him forever towards death.

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