The Thing With Fangs

A Game of Hide and No Seek.

One, two, three

The words bounced off the trees.

A rush of footsteps, laughter stirring the leaves.

One figure stood alone among the faces,

smiling, no contempt, no traces

Of the cruelty she'd forgiven them for,

In the past.

Run, run, they said, run fast

They ran and hid,

And so that's what she did.

Counting off in her head,

22, 23, 24, she said,

Whispering, under her breath,

She hid, under a tree with a nest,

In the middle of the forest,

And there she stayed.

As the sun dipped below the sky, and the voices began to fade,

She wondered if she'd hidden too well,

And so out she fell,

Calling their names each,

But no one heard, her words did not reach,

And when it grew dark,

She found herself all alone,

She knew they'd gone,

And she let out a soft groan.

Tricked again, she knew.

Hope had been too much.

And she was thankful,

for the cover of night,

As she let the first tear fall,

Sliding down her cheek,

She'd never felt so weak,

So meek,

So alone and insignificant,

under the blanketing trees,

Under the vast dark sky, spotted with stars,

Her heart had been trodden.

And so there stood a lone figure,

In the middle of the dark forest,

Forgotten.