Don't worry. I won't ask you to stay with me unless you're frightened and can think, perhaps, of nowhere better for you to go. I understand the direction, your delicate construction of limbs. I understand the way you wet your lips before you take a final, furtive bite. I understand they've left you here, even if you won't tell me.
Are you embarrassed they did, or are you, more likely, ashamed of seeing they would, and not doing a thing about it? You knew things wouldn't be the same, how could they? You embarrassed them, with your scribbled, wet-behind-the-years handwrite and that slick backtalk. You guessed they would, eventually, realize it's prudent to get rid of you before you amass any more warning cards.
They have considered it before, also, but got frightened. It's nothing terrible, living as someone's "right thing to do", as long as you mind your step and are careful not to rock the boat too much.
No, don't cry. The path needn't get darker than it is now, and I'll hold you until help arrives. Help inevitably arrives, unless it rains, and no one else decides to walk this path for days.
Still, I expect the ones who brought us here will eventually come to collect. And if it looks like downpour, I may teach you how to play dead so that they mistake you for one of us. Just lie real still, and shimmy erratically when you feel someone's breath on your neck. But no, of course, I know you know.
I don't know what may come of you afterwards, though, unless you fancy eleven months inside a mildewy armpit-stench box. You can pass the hours as one of us, but I reckon you'll get hungry before the week is out, and might want to look for a more permanent home.
But let's not think about that. I'm sure someone will be along soon enough. It's still only just light out. You could, technically speaking, even try to run after them, but no, I'm guessing they've long ago quickened their step.
A him guiding a her by the arm, lest she grow remorseful. Women are weak, though one of them tried to kiss me earlier. Right on the mouth. She made fun of my poke-out saber tooth, but I didn't mind. It's been never since I been kissed like that.
She got scared too, mind, under her clothes. Didn't know how to say, what to hide, so she piled it all into a great big everything, and stuffed it down the front of her blouse, chanting along cold dead hands and their panoply of secret signals to turn her on, turn out, breathe life again.
It's worth paying attention, because one of them might also be along any minute now. You don't want to go with them, child, the wishwash women, for they'll fall in love with you, your nice, long hair and your clean fingernails. They'll wave and beckon, try to lure you from under my folds, but if you fall back on your haunches and press your spine to the dirt, they can't hurt you.
It's worth knowing, otherwise you might go with them, these women who'll tire of you as a future as soon as you become a reality, and pry you, dry fishbones off their pole-dance pink tongues. Cheeky, naughty pink. Don't got time for what she's too old to learn.
Watch. Keep yourself, child. Above all, you must always remember to keep yourself.
What's that now? That's not so bad. You'll get used to it after a while. No, no, not to me, the wind will blow right through these dregs. Press your back to that damp bark there, and shiver, but mind not to break. You'll get warm in no time.
Shh. I know. But you see, if you keep bawling, I'll have to squeeze you even tighter. Listen for a change. The world becomes ever more opportune when you begin to listen. What's that? There's somebodies coming now, but I don't think they're children. Too big, and too loud. Sound like in a foul mood. Listen, if you get scared, just clamp your fists inside your mouth, and keep behind me, alright?
When they get close, I'll start screeching and roll my eyes, but I'm alright. Don't you be alarmed. I'll try to distract them, but if you hear them call, your best bet is to run. You're quick, and better yet, you're small, while they are slovenly and overgrown, like reeds. You can confuse them with your quick, quiet feet.
The most important part is to blot out the sound. They know. They might not look it now, but they can accurately read every single thought running now through your mind. They'll say they're like you, but you must remember they aren't, really. They're the children whose parents never came back, but yours will. You'll see. There now, that's right. Close your eyes, and keep behind me.
There, there now. Here they come.
Stumbled upon this lovely little spooky trail in the woods. Perfect for little children to wander down...or is it?
