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My mother loved fairy tales. She

0:36

taught me to love them too. I

0:38

never outgrew them. If anything, the

0:40

older I got, the more I needed them.

0:42

In fairy tales, you find happy endings,

0:45

lessons, morals, comfort,

0:47

and triumph, and magic, but

0:50

you will find no sadness. That's

0:52

why I needed them because I was

0:54

sad and angry. I

0:57

was sad and angry because my mother was

0:59

dying, and there was nothing I could do but watch.

1:02

I watched as every part of her withered

1:04

except her stomach. They grew

1:07

hard and distended, almost

1:09

engorged as if she were pregnant. I

1:11

guess, she was, except the things

1:13

she carried wasn't life, but her

1:16

death. I watched as she

1:18

mastered the wide glimmering smile

1:20

she never wore whenever she went out in public,

1:23

which was less and less as time wore

1:25

on. I watched as she told a

1:27

fairy tale of her own. I'll

1:29

be better soon, I watched

1:31

as she cried and held my brother Noah.

1:34

He was only three years old and already

1:36

doomed fragile and sick

1:38

and slow with no hope of a normal

1:40

life or even a long one.

1:43

So I watched him too. With

1:45

dad gone and mom rotting from the

1:47

inside out, I was the only one who

1:50

could. Over the years,

1:52

I heard wonderful, inspirational stories

1:55

Modern fairy tales, you could say,

1:57

of siblings who come together in the

1:59

face of tragedy, who forge unbreakable

2:01

bonds and take care of each other no matter

2:04

what. I was not that brother.

2:07

Noah was the bane of my existence, frail,

2:10

stubborn and impossible to care for

2:12

yet in need of more care than anyone

2:15

I hated every minute I spent with him.

2:17

I hated that mom loved him most.

2:20

I hated doing everything for him

2:22

and for her. Only to be shunted into

2:24

the background at every turn. As

2:27

days grew into weeks, that hatred

2:29

sank deep. Every time I

2:31

scrub my mother's vomit or through her

2:33

soiled sheets into the washer, every

2:35

time Noah threw a tantrum, every

2:37

time I watched mom gaze at him like

2:39

he was the second coming of Christ. Every

2:42

time I had to give everything I had,

2:44

only to find that it wasn't enough, the

2:46

hatred grew. I

2:49

buried it under fresh layers of poisonous

2:51

stoicism and molten resentment that

2:53

hardened over time cooling into

2:55

core. I could practically see

2:57

it jagged mineral in the

2:59

color of storm clouds slowly,

3:02

but surely replacing me. Hey,

3:04

it wasn't the only thing I felt. But

3:06

it was the easiest thing to feel. So

3:09

I hated everything. I hated

3:11

being with my mother. I hated the side of

3:13

my brother. I hated being the oldest

3:16

I hated school, I hated the doctors, I

3:18

hated my father for leaving after Noah

3:20

was born, I hated myself for wishing

3:22

I could too. The only thing

3:24

I didn't hate was my home. It had

3:26

a steep, sloped roof that made it

3:29

look like the house was brooding. Inside

3:31

was dark, a cavern with large

3:34

rooms, few windows, and clusters

3:36

of dusty shadows that always seemed to

3:38

move. Spiders lived everywhere,

3:41

a witch's house. Or a cursed

3:43

castle with occupants in desperate need

3:45

of a hero. The land around

3:48

it was a rural wonderland golden

3:50

hills that stretched as far as the eye could

3:52

see. There were mountains on

3:54

the horizon and the shadowy green

3:56

smear of a forest in the distance I

3:59

never climbed those mountains nor entered

4:01

that forest, but it was enough

4:03

that they were there. I could look

4:05

out the window, see them, and believe

4:07

that something wonderful, something

4:09

magical was out there. To

4:12

me, it was paradise. To

4:14

my mom, it was hell. A

4:16

monument to her misery. She'd

4:18

moved in after dad left. She

4:21

could barely afford the place and struggle

4:23

to make ends meet. The stresses

4:25

of insolvency, abandonment, and

4:27

a desperately sick child nearly killed

4:29

her. She lost too much weight,

4:32

her skin faded into a papery, translucent

4:35

coating that stretched dangerously thin

4:37

over her skull. I used to have nightmares

4:39

that a flesh would split apart, revealing

4:42

the glistening bone beneath. She

4:44

got home from work one night looking particularly

4:47

ill She turned to me probably

4:49

to ask if I'd taken care of dinner, but

4:51

as she opened her mouth, she threw up

4:53

black and red and foul yellow

4:56

blashed across the floor like blood streaked

4:58

poison. She kept crying

5:00

that it burned. I called nine

5:02

eleven, which made her cry harder because

5:04

didn't have the money for an ambulance. The

5:07

very next morning, we learned that she was dying.

5:10

She kept her job as long as she could.

5:12

When she quit, That was the end.

5:14

She had no money for hospital stays or

5:17

medicine. That was why the

5:19

burden of her care, end of noah's,

5:21

fell to me. I didn't mind

5:23

at first. I loved my mom more than anything,

5:26

and her illness, terrible as it

5:28

was, made it easy to be close to her.

5:30

But as she deteriorated, she required

5:33

exponentially more care. Care

5:35

I wasn't remotely capable of providing.

5:38

But there was no room in the equation for

5:40

capability. I went to

5:42

school less and less until I stopped

5:44

altogether, No one even noticed

5:47

that was likely had forgotten me already.

5:49

Mom didn't like it, but she didn't stop

5:51

me. How could she? Some

5:54

days, she couldn't even go to the bathroom on her

5:56

own. The effort it took to

5:58

simply stay alive drained her. She

6:01

usually fell asleep before nightfall, always

6:03

with her TV on. Noah did

6:05

too since he slept in her bed.

6:08

That left me by myself every night.

6:10

Alone in a cavernous house with only

6:12

the echo of their TV to keep me company.

6:15

Just three sad, forgotten people,

6:18

waiting for everything to finish falling

6:20

apart. Three people in

6:22

a cursed house desperately waiting

6:24

for a hero to rescue

6:25

them. I was supposed to stay

6:27

inside because the hills weren't safe after

6:29

dark, but I spent most nights

6:31

outside anyway. Oak trees

6:34

dotted the hills, great tangles

6:36

of mistletoe festering the branches,

6:38

raccoons and deer passed through constantly.

6:42

Crows roosted everywhere even on

6:44

the car and caught fiercely whenever

6:46

I tried to shoot them away. Woodpeckers

6:48

buried acorns in the walls of the house.

6:51

Awwls called out to each other, bats

6:53

swooped like scraps of living enchantment

6:56

against the night sky, and coyotes

6:58

slink through the golden grass. Raffes

7:01

of miners' lettuce exploding along

7:03

our property line so thick and

7:05

soft you could sleep in it. Sometimes

7:08

I did. On warm golden

7:10

evenings, and sometimes on cold

7:12

gray nights, I went to the miner's lettuce.

7:15

Sometimes I read, usually I

7:17

rested drifting off to the song

7:20

of night insects and the low oceanic

7:22

rush of wind through the leaves. These

7:25

nights were the closest thing I had to a

7:27

fairytale. Although every

7:29

last one of those days was awful in

7:31

its own way, one unseasonably

7:34

hot sits timber afternoon was the worst.

7:37

The day was rotten from the start. Mom

7:39

insisted on making breakfast, which

7:41

gave me a stirring of hope. Maybe this

7:43

would be one of her good days. That

7:46

hope was brutally crushed when it became apparent

7:48

that she didn't have enough strength to hold the skillet.

7:51

She dropped it cracking several tiles

7:53

and denting the skillet in the process. She

7:56

cried while I scrambled eggs and wiped

7:58

tears from my face. Noah

8:00

decided it was my fault that mom was sad,

8:02

which made him angry. That

8:04

rage built up until he launched himself

8:06

at me as I served breakfast. I lost

8:09

my grip and spilled half the eggs on the floor.

8:12

An hour later, mom threw up everywhere,

8:14

blood and bile, and small curls

8:17

of undigested eggs. It

8:19

smelled foul and sticky, clinging

8:21

inside my nose, leaking down

8:23

and coating my throat as I scrubbed away.

8:26

Mom started to cry again as I cleaned

8:28

up, which infuriated Noah and knew.

8:31

He didn't have the vocabulary to express

8:33

himself, so he just kept screaming.

8:36

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

8:38

I pretended to ignore him, gridding my

8:40

teeth so hard they ached. Suddenly,

8:42

he lunged for me. I dodged, but

8:44

he knocked over the bucket instead, sending

8:47

a flood of bloody, sudsy water

8:49

across the floor. I saw

8:51

red Mom know at the furniture,

8:54

the foul cascade of blood, vial,

8:56

soap, and egg, all of it red

8:58

lined in golden autumn sunlight. Noah

9:01

was stomped in front of me and screamed. Stop

9:03

it. I struck him. The

9:05

crack was cataclysmic. The

9:07

beginning of the end of the world. His

9:10

eyes went wide as he fell down and

9:12

began to cry. My mother

9:14

shouted at me or tried to.

9:16

Her weak voice was barely a whisper but

9:18

I caught the gist anyway. She was trying

9:21

to send me to my room. After

9:23

everything I'd done, she was punishing me.

9:26

I spun around and stormed outside, slamming

9:29

the door with such force the house quaked.

9:31

I blinked momentarily blinded

9:33

by the bright sun. The day

9:35

was warm, and the trees in the garden

9:38

were lush, birds sang, crows

9:41

called to each other in the distance, and coyote's

9:43

gift I marched to the backyard,

9:46

body my lip as my face crumpled. I

9:48

focused on the minor's lettuce out near the

9:50

property line. I reached it

9:52

right as the tears began to fall. I

9:55

flopped down and curled up, the

9:57

scent of greenness and cold,

9:59

dark earth swept over me, inside

10:02

me cleansing my lungs out of

10:04

the stench of my mother's slow death

10:06

while the birds sang and the wind rushed

10:08

through the leaves, I dreamed

10:10

of crows, coyotes, and

10:12

a brooding castle in which a paper

10:14

skinned princess who looked like my mother

10:17

leaned out the

10:17

window. Screaming words that transformed

10:20

into ribbons of foamy, bio

10:22

laced blood.

10:23

What are you doing? The princess

10:25

evaporated I opened my eyes

10:27

and found myself with a Halloween mask

10:30

half hidden in the minors' lettuce. It's

10:32

awfully late for an afternoon nap. The

10:34

mask asked, what a weird

10:36

nightmare I thought, staggering

10:38

to my feet. The crushed lettuce

10:41

left wet dewy streaks on my

10:43

skin, It felt real,

10:45

not like a dream at all. Who

10:47

are you? The mass lurched forward,

10:50

followed by a strange horribly skinny

10:53

body clothed in a mud caked

10:55

dress. It took a long,

10:57

disorienting moment to realize the

10:59

body was emerging from a burrow in the

11:01

miner's lettuce. She drew

11:03

herself up into a sitting position and crossed

11:05

her arms. They looked

11:07

wrong those arms, emaciated,

11:10

draped in dry folds of wrinkled

11:12

flesh, the color of buttermilk.

11:14

My name is Wendy. She smiled and

11:17

I realized her mask, a ravaged,

11:19

moon colored mess of scars, dark

11:21

holes, and nets of wrinkles around

11:24

bright flat eyes like coins was

11:26

not a mask, but her face.

11:29

When I spoke, my voice issued in

11:31

a panicky rush.

11:33

You can't be here. You're you're trespassing?

11:35

No. You're trespassing. She

11:37

rose to her feet in a single boneless

11:40

movement and picked her way through the miner's

11:42

lettuce in a

11:43

warning, twitchy march that made my

11:45

skin crawl. She halted several feet

11:47

away.

11:47

This is your property line. Everything

11:49

behind it is yours, everything on the side

11:51

is not. I watched helplessly. This

11:54

was no nightmare, and this was real.

11:56

And maybe it was a fairy tale, but

11:59

not mine because I was the oldest

12:01

brother. In fairy tales, the

12:03

oldest brother always fails. Leaving

12:05

the youngest behind to save the kingdom. And

12:08

I, the stupid eldest, had just failed

12:10

by trespassing in a monster's territory,

12:13

I'm sorry, I whispered. She

12:16

flounced towards me, dry hair ripping

12:18

behind her, something on her neck bounced

12:20

in time with her steps, broken

12:22

constrained,

12:24

An old animal bone strong upon

12:26

dirty twine.

12:27

Why are you sorry? My brother's

12:29

like sleeping here too. Brothers,

12:32

this thing, this hideous

12:34

wintry monster with eyes like

12:36

cloud shrouded moons had

12:38

brothers? Are your brothers here?

12:40

Are they in your burrow too? Are

12:42

they watching?

12:44

Do you want to know where they are? Would this

12:46

appease the monster? Would listening

12:48

save my life? Yes. She

12:51

looked up. The dying light reflected

12:53

in her eyes. Her skin looked

12:55

so sick, somehow thick and

12:58

papery at once. I hit them

13:00

in the trees. Then she

13:02

stepped past me. I watched,

13:04

frightened, and confused as she drifted

13:06

through the golden grass, and faded into

13:08

the night. Once darkness swallowed

13:11

her entirely, my paralysis broke

13:13

and I vaulted. By the time I

13:15

reached the house, Noah and mom were

13:17

asleep, I ran to her room without

13:19

thinking, jealousy and resentment for

13:21

gone. I just wanted my mom.

13:23

She would keep me safe from the horrors in the

13:25

hills But how asked

13:28

a mean, broken, and terribly

13:30

small voice in the back of my mind? She

13:33

can barely even stand. Why do you think

13:35

she cries because she knows you

13:37

can't protect her and because she knows

13:39

you know too. I stopped

13:42

inches from her door struggling as

13:44

fear, jealousy, guilt, anger

13:46

and love fought for dominance. Anger

13:49

one. I retreated to the living

13:51

room and locked the doors. After

13:54

a long time, I fell asleep straight

13:56

into another nightmare. The

13:59

princess who looked like my mother lay bleeding

14:01

in a field of minors' lettuce a

14:03

white mountain lion proud, murky

14:06

silver eyes cutting dim swaths

14:08

through the darkness. Nearby,

14:10

a half eaten coyote with golden eyes

14:12

whimpered as it bled to death. Wind

14:15

roored through the leaves, that swooped

14:17

overhead nestling impenseless clusters

14:20

of mistletoe that pulsed like hearts.

14:23

The mountain mine came closer, green

14:25

juice from the crushed miners let us strained

14:27

its snowy coat. I couldn't run.

14:30

I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't

14:32

do that either. I watched, unable

14:34

to move, or even scream until

14:37

it crept past me, slinking toward

14:39

the

14:39

princess. My paralysis broke

14:41

as tears dripped from the coyote's golden

14:44

eyes.

14:44

Please come back. It's sad

14:46

in Wendy's voice.

14:49

I woke up nauseous and drenched in sweat.

14:52

It was morning, but barely. For

14:55

reasons I didn't dare fathom, I went

14:57

outside. It was windy

14:59

and shockingly cold. The big

15:01

patch of miners let us look dark and

15:03

deep in the thin light like a half

15:05

hidden lake. I took a deep

15:07

breath and began to walk When

15:10

I reached the minus lettuce, I stopped

15:12

and scanned the patch as my heart pounded.

15:14

But of course, there was no coyote,

15:17

no blood. Certainly no white

15:19

mountain line, only the spot

15:21

where I like to nap. Beside it

15:23

was the half hidden burrow and inside

15:26

shining like yellow lens flares.

15:28

What are you doing here? Looking

15:31

for you, she blinked, then

15:33

crawled out of the girl. Her bone

15:35

necklace caked with mud and

15:37

stringy white roots swung back and

15:39

forth. She looked even worse in

15:41

the morning light. Eyes, one

15:43

of which was wider than the other and clouded

15:46

were murky yellow. Her skin

15:48

was the worst fragile and

15:50

dry, twisted with big

15:52

scars, and popped with deep holes

15:54

like insect burrows. What

15:56

are you?

15:57

Why? Are you afraid?

16:00

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. What

16:02

did the monster need to hear? Affirmation

16:05

of her magnificent fiercimeness or

16:07

something else. My mind

16:09

worked fast. She was terrifying to

16:11

behold, but she hadn't hurt me.

16:13

If anything, she'd been a little bit silly.

16:16

What kind of monster acted like a regular

16:18

kid? No. I

16:20

lied. She smiled. Good.

16:23

Then she took my hand and pulled me through

16:25

the carpet of miners' lettuce and into the hills.

16:28

I didn't resist because even if she

16:30

seemed kind, she was still a monster and

16:32

I was the oldest brother. The sun

16:35

rose and the day bright as we walked.

16:37

After some time, the forest evolved

16:39

from a shattery green smear to a

16:41

spectacular wall of trees. I

16:44

eyed it with frightened excitement. I

16:46

never ventured inside myself The

16:48

forest had always been too far away,

16:51

but now I was here. Not only

16:53

would I finally explore it, I would do

16:55

so with a monster beside me, But

16:57

to my disappointment, windy veered

16:59

sharply, avoiding the trees entirely.

17:02

Why aren't we going in?

17:04

Because I hate it.

17:06

Oh, where are we going?

17:08

Right over there.

17:10

She dropped my hand and sprinted off into

17:12

the long grass. I followed, but

17:15

I was cautious, scanning the ground

17:17

for rattlesnakes and tarantulas before

17:19

each step when I caught up to

17:21

her, She was standing at the base of a particularly

17:24

grand valley oak.

17:25

Do you like this tree? I looked

17:27

up at it. The huge canopy

17:29

threw an impressive radius of dappled shadows.

17:32

Crow is roosted in the branches peering

17:35

down at me and with bright eyes. Sure.

17:38

So do I? It's the only tree I like.

17:41

I used to climb it with my brothers, but

17:43

only at night. Do your brothers

17:45

come out at night? No. She

17:48

said, I watched her equal

17:50

parts repulsed and captivated.

17:52

No. They're dead. The

17:55

monster got them a long time ago.

17:57

I couldn't muster an answer. I tell everyone

18:00

who comes here about the monster, not

18:02

just you. I have

18:04

to. I'm the only one who knows

18:06

it's here. Everyone else forgot.

18:09

Despite my fear, I was fascinated,

18:11

eager even, gripped by the dark

18:14

obsessive enchantment unique to childhood.

18:17

This was it. It had happened. Somehow,

18:19

in the middle of tragedy and in my own

18:21

backyard, I had stumbled on a fairytale.

18:24

What kind of monster?

18:26

The worst kind.

18:27

Do your brothers know about it? I

18:29

didn't believe in it.

18:30

She looked up at the branches, the

18:32

web like pattern reflected in her eyes,

18:35

I don't

18:35

wanna talk about them anymore. So

18:37

we did not. Instead,

18:40

we talked about worms and bats

18:42

bumblebees and Bobcats, acorns

18:44

and moths. Windy taught me that

18:46

the wild chamomile growing in my yard

18:48

could be harvested for tea. That miners

18:51

lettuce could be eaten and that raccoons

18:53

washed their food. She

18:55

said the crows had been in this valley since

18:57

the world's first days which was

18:59

why they lived everywhere, settling

19:02

trees the way people settle neighborhoods

19:04

and that the reason the coyotes loved

19:06

long yellow grass was because it camouflaged

19:09

their fur. Mom would love to

19:11

hear this, I thought. And just

19:13

like that, Windy's spell was broken

19:15

again. Reality came crashing

19:17

down. I jumped up as images

19:20

of my mother filled my head. I

19:22

have to go Wendy stood eagerly

19:24

turning her bone pendant between her fingers.

19:27

Where? A home. Her

19:29

face fell. Oh. You

19:32

can come, I offered even as

19:34

my heart

19:35

sank. She gave me a smile

19:37

that made her skin crinkle like a dry

19:39

leaf,

19:40

Thank you, but I can't.

19:43

Well, then I'll come see you tomorrow.

19:45

Her smile slipped. Or

19:47

tonight, she hitched it back up.

19:50

Good. There's magic

19:52

here. That thought bullied me

19:54

for the rest of the day. When Noah

19:56

screamed at me, I just smiled. When

19:59

mom gave me anxious lips, my kiss

20:01

the top of her head impervious for

20:03

once to the scent of spoilage but clung

20:05

to her like bad perfume. Once

20:08

they'd gone to bed, I slipped out the back

20:10

door heading for the miners' lettuce.

20:16

Insects drifted in the dying light like

20:18

scraps of gold. I didn't see

20:21

windy anywhere, When I looked in

20:23

the burrow, there was only darkness. Disappointments

20:26

settled over me, surprisingly better.

20:29

Then two bony legs with

20:32

cracked white skin fell in front of my

20:34

face. I stumbled back, screaming

20:36

overhead, Something burst out

20:38

laughing. I looked up and saw

20:40

Wendy dangling from a branch. She

20:43

dropped to the ground, laughing so hard that

20:45

her wrinkled face resembled a very happy

20:47

and slightly rotten pumpkin. Before

20:50

I knew it, I was laughing too. By

20:52

the time we stopped, it was almost dark.

20:55

As I stood, a bat swooped in front

20:57

of my face. I wheeled back

20:59

and fell again. This sent us

21:01

both into another hysterical fit of laughter.

21:04

This time, we laughed until long past

21:06

dark. For the first time in

21:08

years, I felt like a child, a

21:11

hero on an adventure, A happy

21:13

ending waiting on the horizon, joy,

21:16

not fear, permeated reality, and

21:18

it was all because of Windy. As

21:20

we ventured into the nighttime hills, she

21:23

continued the morning's lecture, instructing

21:25

me on the habits of bats, how to calm

21:27

a frightened deer, and how to handle rattles

21:30

snakes. As we skirted the

21:32

forest, she looked at it wistfully. There

21:34

used to be beautiful pond there, deepened

21:37

the trees. Well, It

21:40

would have been beautiful if it weren't covered

21:42

in

21:42

scum. The moon was high when we

21:44

once reached the enormous oak standing

21:46

like an alien sentinel in the

21:48

dark.

21:48

Come on. Let's climb. My

21:51

heart plummeted. The oak loomed over

21:53

me, impossibly tall. Branches

21:56

cut the night sky into starry

21:57

freckles. I can't.

22:00

I

22:00

have something to show you. She

22:02

disappeared up the trunk like a squirrel. It

22:05

was the last thing I wanted to do. But

22:07

if a hero can't conquer his fear, then

22:10

he's no hero at all. So

22:12

I followed. Finding a grip

22:14

on the tree was hard, shimmying up

22:16

was even harder, The bark scraped

22:18

my hands and knees and I knocked my head

22:20

against the

22:21

branches. Wendy, far

22:24

overhead believes Russell.

22:26

I'm here. What's taking you

22:28

so long.

22:29

I kept climbing. She was

22:31

waiting near the top, balancing on a

22:33

precariously thin branch

22:35

Hi. By me. I

22:37

eyed the branch nervously, but there was

22:39

nothing to do. I hauled myself

22:42

up. Rimly ignoring my throbbing

22:44

bloody hands and settled beside her.

22:46

She pointed to a branch thick with leaves

22:49

and mistletoe. Look, I

22:51

squinted wondering what it was supposed

22:53

to be. The leaves, they

22:55

were thicker there, so thick they

22:58

blocked the stars entirely. But

23:00

so what? Did she really drag

23:02

me all the way to the top to show me big leaves?

23:05

I opened my mouth to ask her, but before

23:07

I could speak, one of the leaves took

23:09

flight. That's their

23:12

small bodies hung from the branches swaying

23:14

and quivering. They were everywhere.

23:17

The old tree was a roost. Panic

23:20

overtook me. My heart slammed against

23:22

my ribs as I twisted and tried to climb

23:24

down. Windy caught my shoulder.

23:27

Look. She held out her other hand,

23:29

which looked as thin and delicate as

23:31

the bats themselves. I watched,

23:33

astonished, as three bats shivered

23:36

open and swung, latching onto her

23:38

fingers. They crawled along her

23:40

arm with quick twitchy movements, more

23:43

followed. 1236,

23:47

ten,

23:48

twelve. Wendy laughed,

23:50

Marley, and tipped her hand against my shoulder.

23:54

It tickles. Here, you

23:56

try. The bat surged across

23:58

her in a jerky flood and crawled onto

24:00

me. I covered my eyes as the

24:02

first of many tiny claws tuck my

24:04

shirt, velvet bellies

24:06

and warm wings inched across my skin,

24:09

one after the other, it did

24:11

tickle. After a long

24:13

time, I opened my eyes. Bats

24:16

covered me from waste to shoulder. Clinging

24:18

tightly as a gust of wind mown through

24:20

the canopy. The branch swayed

24:22

dangerously. I grasped the trunk

24:25

in a panic. The bats took flight,

24:27

rising in clouds, moonlight

24:29

shown through their membranous wings, throwing

24:31

their bones into sharp relief, Something

24:34

roiled in my chest and bubbled up my

24:36

throat. I thought it was a scream, but

24:39

when I opened my mouth, laughter exploded

24:41

out. Wendy joined me as

24:43

the bats swooped around us, wind

24:46

moneed through the branches, leaves

24:48

roored like the tide in the distance,

24:51

Coyote's howl. Wendy

24:53

threw her arms around me and together

24:55

we kept laughing. I visited

24:57

Wendy every evening. Each night,

24:59

I discovered that I needed to sleep a little

25:01

less. By November, I

25:04

didn't need to sleep at all, and

25:06

thank god. Sleep would have forced

25:08

me to miss out on our adventures. We

25:10

climbed Oak trees, crawled through the Bracken

25:13

with its tangles of thorns and the late

25:15

season wildflowers, raced each

25:17

other through the hills and napped in the miner's

25:19

lettuce. And then there were the animals.

25:22

Every animal in the hills obeyed Wendy's

25:24

commands. Hawks collided on

25:26

our hands, talons, nicking, soft

25:29

skin. Deere crept through

25:31

the tall grass and touched their soft noses

25:33

to ours, Large eyes so

25:35

wide they reflected the entire landscape.

25:38

We pet black bears, became roost

25:40

for bats, ran with coyotes, rooted

25:43

in the dark earth with wild hogs

25:45

and cuddled every feral cat that crossed

25:47

our path. In my memory,

25:50

Those days are warm and golden, and

25:52

the nights are cold and clear with

25:54

blasts of icy wind that woke me

25:56

in a way nothing has before or

25:59

since. Like everything to

26:01

do with Windy, it made me feel alive.

26:04

I was happy and utterly completely

26:06

myself untethered to the quiet,

26:09

bitter tragedy of my mother and brother.

26:12

I had a magical wildness that transcended

26:14

freedom itself A stay I could

26:16

only enter when I was exploring hills,

26:18

trees, and mountains with windy. The

26:21

only place we did not explore was the

26:23

forest. It seems insane

26:25

in hindsight, but everything was

26:27

insane. Not just windy herself,

26:30

although she was plenty insane on

26:32

her own, the way wild animals

26:34

came to us, tamer than dogs, or

26:36

my metamorphosis into an odd

26:38

lost boy who didn't need sleep, My

26:41

mother's illness was insane too, that

26:43

she had to be alive while rotting from the

26:45

inside out wasn't just insane. It

26:48

was monstrous. So was

26:50

known as prognosis. The

26:52

fact that I would be an orphan to twelve,

26:54

that my disabled brother and I would be placed

26:56

into different foster homes perhaps

26:58

never to see each other again was insane.

27:01

And the reality that my mother would

27:03

be dead before my thirteenth birthday

27:05

less than a year, less than half

27:08

a year was insane. The

27:10

fact and the truth that nobody

27:12

cared that no one would remember us,

27:14

that my mother, my brother, and I

27:16

were already forgotten was the most

27:18

insane thing of all, Compared

27:20

to that, windy's forest didn't

27:22

even register. On a frigid

27:24

evening, when the sky was clear and

27:27

bright and snow crowned the moonlight

27:29

mountains, I prepared to go see Windy

27:31

as usual, but on my way out,

27:33

I felt a tug on my coat. I

27:35

looked down and saw Noah, go

27:37

back to that. I told him. He

27:40

shook his head, anger stirred,

27:42

but quickly died. Noah

27:44

would be an orphan too. At four,

27:46

not twelve. He might not even

27:48

remember mom. What would be

27:50

worse to remember and ache for

27:52

her until he died or to forget

27:54

her altogether? What if he forgot

27:57

me? What if he ended up in a bad

27:59

foster home? What if it ended up

28:01

being hell? And what if

28:03

he never remembered anything else? For

28:06

the first time in weeks, a lump formed

28:08

in my throat as reality came to roost

28:11

and with it a bitter truth If

28:13

anyone needed a fairy tale, it wasn't

28:16

me. It was Noah. Okay.

28:19

I said, Let's get your coat.

28:22

We went out into the frosty night, dead,

28:24

brack and crunched under our feet, the

28:26

moon shown high and cold,

28:29

drenching the darkness in a film of silver.

28:32

Bats flew overhead, throwing thin,

28:34

unsettling shadows. I

28:36

knelt down by the burrow. Noah looked

28:38

at me curiously then followed suit.

28:41

Wendy, I whispered, are

28:43

you awake? Silence. Then

28:46

two golden lens flares blink to life.

28:49

Oh, no a whisper. The

28:52

light reflected off his face as he reached

28:54

out to touch them. Then long

28:56

fingers been

28:57

cracked, bright as the moon, slid

29:00

out of the burrow and took his hand.

29:02

Who is this? My brother,

29:04

inside the borough, something curved

29:06

and pale, glinted under her lens flare

29:09

eyes, a crescent, a

29:11

smile, Noah froze

29:13

as Wendy slid out and unfolded before

29:16

him. His gaze tracked upward

29:18

along her arm to her shoulder, finally

29:21

settling on her face. His eyes

29:23

widened, reflecting the nightscape. Then

29:26

he spoke his first full sentence. What

29:28

is that? Noah, I snapped.

29:31

He shook his head and tried to pull back, but

29:33

Wendy didn't let go. Noah.

29:36

No. No. He rinshed away. I

29:38

caught him, but he recoiled and twisted. He

29:40

dug his nails into my hand and screamed.

29:43

It echoed through the night, so madameally

29:45

shrill the coyote zipped in response,

29:48

then he bit me. His teeth felt

29:50

sharp and electric, somehow rotten.

29:53

I let go and he ran. I

29:56

chased him for what felt like hours screaming

29:58

at him to come back That just spurred

30:00

him on, small legs carrying him

30:02

faster than even I could hope to run.

30:05

He moved farther and farther ahead, a

30:07

dark shape glossed and silver speeding

30:09

towards the forest edge. I watched

30:12

helpless as he finally disappeared among

30:14

the trees. The forest loomed

30:16

before me, a monstrous tangle

30:18

of shadow in starlight and thick

30:20

menacing darkness, I hesitated,

30:23

craning my neck as I listened for know of,

30:25

but heard nothing. So

30:28

I plunged in because a hero

30:30

who can't clean up his own message is no

30:32

hero at all. As soon

30:34

as I ducked under a canopy, the world

30:36

changed. Stars bled through

30:38

the dying leaves, pale mist

30:40

curled through the branches. A delicate

30:42

sheen of silver covered the entire forest.

30:45

I thought of my old nightmare, the

30:47

pale cougar with silver eyes eating

30:50

the coyote that spoke in Wendy's voice.

30:53

I shivered and kept walking. I

30:55

wondered vaguely where I might find Windy's

30:58

scumb blanketed pond. On

31:00

the heels of that came thoughts of Windy's

31:02

monster, I wondered whether

31:04

it had silver eyes like the cougar.

31:07

Fear suddenly took root and exploded

31:09

upward. I was too old to believe

31:11

in monsters, but I was in a dark

31:13

forest on an enchanted night. How

31:16

could I believe in anything else? Leaves

31:18

and twigs crunched underfoot, patterns

31:21

of broken moonlight danced over my skin.

31:24

I side stepped roots and rocks, silently

31:26

reassuring myself. There are

31:28

no monsters They aren't real. There

31:31

are no monsters. They aren't real. There

31:33

are no monsters. I hopped

31:35

over an upraised route but instead

31:37

of touching the ground, my foot went down

31:40

and down and down, spilling

31:42

me to the forest floor. Disintegrated

31:44

leaves and find silky dustics

31:47

floated in a cold cloud. It

31:49

tasted old and rich, a

31:51

combination of oak, sage,

31:53

filth, and dirty fur that melted

31:55

into mud on my tongue. I

31:57

sat up, gagging, and turned. Behind

32:00

me, I saw an earthen ledge that

32:02

formed a high, lopsided step,

32:05

snaked through with roots. I

32:07

spat out the mud and stood up there

32:09

in the trees behind the tree

32:11

root stare where eyes like

32:13

Milky Starlight There are

32:16

no monsters. Something shifted.

32:18

They aren't real. Something

32:21

bony, broken, and long

32:23

as a tree a fallen bug

32:25

infested tree exploding with rot.

32:28

There are no monsters. They aren't real.

32:31

That that thing was very real. Iran

32:35

behind me leaves cracked and twigs

32:37

snapped under rapid footsteps. There

32:40

are no monsters. No monsters. No

32:42

monsters. No monsters. A

32:44

low roar bored into my ribcage

32:47

and thrummed, so shockingly powerful

32:49

it paralyzed me. I was sure

32:51

my bones would disintegrate. I

32:53

would collapse a puddle of flesh

32:55

and clothes and powdered bone. Someday

32:58

a tree would grow from my bone meal

33:01

and I would be part of the forest Part

33:03

of the monster, forgotten by

33:05

the world as I grew web like branches

33:07

and sprouted leaves that would host pendulums

33:10

of Missletoe, Then the

33:12

roar cut off so did my transfiguration.

33:15

I was no longer a tree just a

33:17

boy, a frightened boy running

33:19

from the monster in the deep dark woods.

33:22

I ran until I heard birdsong underscored

33:24

by the horse commentary of crow's A

33:27

cat darted across my path, fur

33:29

shining in the sunlight. I sobbed

33:31

and glanced over my shoulder before I lost

33:34

my nerve A dough stared

33:35

back, half hidden in the trees.

33:38

What

33:38

are you doing here?

33:39

I spun around in a panic. It was

33:41

windy.

33:42

Come on. We have to get out of the trees.

33:45

I hate them. The sun shafted

33:47

weekly through the forest canopy, throwing

33:49

patterns of light and shadow, but moved

33:51

over our skin as we ran. I

33:54

glanced uneasily at the trees, branches

33:56

like great drooping webs spread overhead,

33:59

leading dusty beams of sunlight. Finally,

34:02

in the distance, I spied the

34:04

shaded patch of miners' lettuce on the

34:07

hill beside it stood my house. When

34:10

we crossed the tree line, reality crashed

34:12

over the world, dismantling the

34:14

dark spell of the forest and its silver

34:16

eyed

34:16

monster. Before I could even

34:18

drop breath when he turned on me.

34:20

How could you go in there? I had

34:23

to. Dred exploded as I

34:25

remembered why I'd gone into the woods in

34:27

first place. What kind of hero

34:29

abandions a sick little boy to the mercy

34:31

of a monster? No hero at

34:33

all. I turned back As

34:35

the shadows of the trees fell across me,

34:38

I felt their pull like lines

34:40

reeling me in. My brother

34:42

She grabbed me and spun around, slamming

34:45

onto the ground with such force I could barely

34:47

comprehend it. No. She

34:49

screamed. I told you.

34:51

I tried to stand, but my limbs wouldn't

34:53

obey.

34:54

I can't let him. I told you there was a monster.

34:57

But my brother's in there. I couldn't leave

34:59

him. You didn't leave me. Her

35:01

face crumpled. She looked uglier

35:03

than

35:03

ever, too ugly to be real.

35:06

Yes. It's bad to abandon

35:08

your brothers.

35:09

She wiped her eyes pushing up folds

35:12

of loose dry skin. I

35:13

need to show you something.

35:15

But Noah,

35:16

is safe. I need sure. I

35:19

always take care of my brothers. Then

35:21

she got down on all fours and crawled into

35:23

her burrow. I looked up at my

35:25

house and down at the burrow, windy

35:29

or home. Despite my

35:31

fear and the marrow deep exhaustion

35:33

weighing me down, the choice was surprisingly

35:35

easy. I dropped to my belly

35:37

and slid in after her. The

35:40

burrow was wet and cold, mud

35:42

squished under my fingers, Pail

35:44

roots dangled like the legs of ghostly

35:46

spiders, a large earthworm

35:49

glistened briefly before diving into

35:51

the earth. Then, darkness

35:53

engulfed me, and I saw nothing at all.

35:56

I crawled blindly. The hiss

35:58

of windy's bony form sliding

36:00

ahead was the only thing that kept panic

36:02

bay. By the time I emerged

36:05

into the sunlight, my bones ached

36:07

with cold. Every inch of

36:09

skin was numb, My clothes were

36:11

muddy and those thin pale roots

36:13

tangled around my fingers like waterlogged

36:15

hair. I closed my eyes against

36:18

the light, It felt painfully bright,

36:20

but I knew it wasn't. I

36:22

sensed the gloomy muted quality of

36:24

the sun and knew that we were back among

36:26

the trees. I frowned Why

36:29

did Windy who hated the forest

36:31

have a home that spilled directly into

36:33

its

36:33

heart?

36:33

Open your eyes. I did.

36:36

Directly before me perched an inch

36:38

or two off the dark earth was a

36:40

discolored bulb shot through with cracks

36:43

and two large dark holes

36:45

like eyes. Only when

36:47

I noticed the jaw beneath, small,

36:50

malformed, with less than a dozen

36:52

teeth, did I understand what I was seeing?

36:55

My head felt light, my chest

36:57

pressurized as though a rapidly inflating

37:00

balloon had replaced my heart, I

37:02

looked around, there were so many.

37:05

They carpeted the earth sprouting from

37:07

the dead leaves like obscene flowers,

37:10

small and large, pale and

37:12

dark, some whole some

37:14

broken, some with smashed faces,

37:17

some with little more than lopsided jaws

37:19

or jagged skull

37:20

caps,

37:21

These are my brothers. No one

37:23

remembers them or the monster

37:25

who killed them. The balloon in my

37:27

chest in flated sharply, pressing

37:30

painfully against my ribs and throat.

37:32

Eyes like dirty silver pools filled

37:34

my

37:34

head. Monsters aren't real.

37:37

This one is. It lives in

37:39

the trees. You have to

37:41

listen

37:42

or you'll end up like them. I'm

37:44

not your brother. Her face was

37:46

changing, fading, bleeding

37:48

away like light bleeds from the evening

37:51

sky. I couldn't look at her

37:53

for long. When you forget a monster,

37:56

you allow it to thrive, to

37:58

take over.

38:00

Why didn't you tell me you had a brother too?

38:02

I shrugged defensively.

38:04

Tell me about him. Of course, she

38:06

wanted to know about Noah. All anyone

38:08

ever cared about was Noah. And why

38:10

should Wendy be any

38:11

different? He's

38:12

sick. With what? Something

38:14

he was born with. He won't live very

38:16

long because his organs aren't growing right.

38:19

He can't form memories very well. When

38:21

my mom dies, he might not remember

38:23

her. Tear has stung my

38:25

eyes. Suddenly it was hard

38:27

to breathe. Or me.

38:30

He'll have to go to a special foster home and

38:32

won't be able to

38:33

come. He'll think we left him.

38:35

Why does he have to go? Why

38:38

can't he stay here with you and your mother? How

38:40

amazing I thought? How bitterly

38:43

selfish amazing that I hadn't yet told

38:45

Windy of Noah who were my mother. Everything

38:48

came out of me. I could almost see it

38:50

flooding the forest floor an infected

38:53

pool rising around the Garden of skulls.

38:55

It's like mom and Noah existed for nothing.

38:58

No one cares that they're here. No

39:00

one will care when they're gone. No

39:02

one will even remember them. They don't

39:04

matter to anyone and I can't change that.

39:07

Nothing I do is enough Wendy

39:09

sat, motionless in my periphery.

39:12

She looked terrifying in silhouette, absolutely

39:15

out wrenchingly, incomprehensible, horrifying.

39:18

But when she spoke, she sounded

39:21

gentle, so very gentle,

39:23

Why didn't you tell me?

39:25

Because I didn't wanna think

39:27

about it.

39:28

You didn't want to remember. I

39:30

shook my head and continued to cry.

39:33

Silence followed, broken only by

39:35

the wind and the steps of tiny animals

39:38

picking through the dead leaves. Then,

39:40

Windy spoke. I expected

39:42

her to tell me about her brothers, but

39:45

even though the skulls of a hundred dead

39:47

boys surrounded us, She told me about

39:49

crows and red ants and condors,

39:52

all of which ate dead

39:53

things. Once the scavengers have

39:55

their fill, The carcasses

39:57

of dead animals rot into the soil

40:00

to be drawn up through the roots of jealous,

40:03

hungry trees, And

40:05

eaten. I

40:06

remembered the dust in my mouth how

40:08

it had tasted of oak and rot.

40:10

Living things are alive because they eat

40:12

dead things.

40:14

Wendy turned her bone pendant over

40:16

and over in her hands.

40:17

That is the only way living things can

40:19

laugh.

40:20

She looked up at the sprawling web of branches.

40:23

Especially the trees. They

40:25

are more alive than any other snow.

40:28

I finally looked at her. Her skin was

40:30

thinner and older than I'd ever seen it.

40:33

Her eyes looked flat yet endless

40:35

with

40:36

dim, cloudy spots under the surface,

40:38

like dead things drifting under murky

40:40

water.

40:41

If you could be like me, Would

40:43

you? Yes. A thousand

40:46

years of cold, clear nights filled

40:48

with bats and deer and laughter would

40:50

be a dream come true No

40:52

worries, no sickness, no future,

40:55

only magic.

40:56

Was it meant you had to eat something that

40:58

was alive? Would you still

41:00

do it? This is wrong,

41:03

whispered a small voice in the back of my

41:05

head. All of it was wrong.

41:08

Her way with animals how she made

41:10

them behave even when their bodies quivered

41:12

and their eyes rolled. Her cold

41:14

burrow, her skeletal thinness, her

41:17

warming movements, the broken

41:19

desiccation of her skin and her eyes,

41:21

her clouded dead eyes, I

41:24

shot to my feet. I have to

41:26

go. I know. I

41:28

walked as fast as I could without running

41:30

shuttering when I passed her burrow. I

41:33

didn't dare go through it again. The

41:35

thought of being trapped, of being chased

41:37

by a skeletal girl monster whose

41:39

dry body rasped against the walls

41:41

nearly sent me into a panic. The

41:44

floor surrounded me all dusty

41:46

green and golden gloom. I

41:48

thought of monsters, warped

41:50

in human bodies blending with the twisted

41:53

branches, spidery hands stretching

41:55

out of the shadows, molted skin

41:58

camouflaged in the dappled light.

42:00

I took a deep breath There

42:02

are no monsters. Wendy's

42:04

cracked dead face filled my mind's

42:07

eye. They aren't real. The

42:09

tree is finally thinned. The bright

42:11

sunlight grew brighter and green glimmered

42:14

through the trees. The miner's lettuce

42:17

The boundary between my world and windy's

42:19

and behind it, my house, I

42:22

broke into a run and didn't stop until

42:24

I burst through the door.

42:26

Noah, who was napping on the love seat didn't

42:28

stir. What? She

42:30

snarled.

42:31

What were you thinking? Her

42:33

words crushed me. So I crushed

42:36

her. It would be good to get him

42:38

out of here and away from you for a little while.

42:40

He doesn't have to die because you are,

42:43

the words hung in the air, echoing,

42:45

reverberating until they broke what was left

42:47

in my world. Like magic

42:49

words spoken by a monster instead

42:51

of the hero. I regretted them

42:54

instantly, but it didn't help Nothing

42:56

I did or could do or whatever

42:58

do could help. I looked

43:01

at Noah, his hands were scrapped raw,

43:03

his little palms looked flayed. Coated

43:06

in papery scabs and raw flesh.

43:08

I thought of the forest, its hungry

43:11

roots, and jagged rocks, and withered.

43:13

Mom, Google.

43:15

She looked a hundred years old. Papery

43:18

skin stretched over a skull eagerly

43:20

anticipating the day it would escape her.

43:24

I looked at my brother again, flocked

43:26

bonelessly over the cushions, only

43:28

the rise and fall of his chest gave

43:30

any indication that he was alive Wendy's

43:33

voice echoed in my ear. An

43:36

image exploded in my head. My

43:38

mother arranging freshly butchered pieces

43:40

of my little brother on the and table

43:42

as she prepared to eat him while his

43:44

eyes flat and discovered with

43:47

cloudy pale things flickering in

43:49

their depths poured into me. I

43:52

burst into tears. That

43:54

night, for the first time in months, I

43:56

slept. There's so much more

43:58

to tell of Windy of what she was

44:00

and what she did, but I'm so

44:02

tired, far too tired

44:04

to remember any more monsters tonight.

44:07

After I left Windy in the forest, I

44:09

slept for the first time in weeks. My

44:12

dreams were filled of headless boys

44:14

crippled princesses with flesh so

44:16

thin it's split across their cheekbones

44:19

and a pale cougar eating a golden

44:21

eyed little girl whose blood flooded

44:23

in an higher field of miners' lettuce.

44:26

The mountain lion snapped the child's bones

44:28

in its blood stained jaws with a rhythmic

44:30

crack crack crack that jerked

44:33

me out of the nightmare. The

44:35

cracking sound followed me out of my dream.

44:37

Only it wasn't cracking of bones

44:39

or of anything else It was tapping.

44:42

I shot up and faced my window. Sure

44:45

enough, I saw a pale hand wrapping

44:48

the glass. And behind it, a

44:50

small, star, silver, silhouette. Anger

44:53

overtook

44:53

me. I stuck to the window and threw

44:56

it open. What do you want? I

44:58

hissed. The monster saw you.

45:01

It's going to come for you and your brother.

45:04

Our brother.

45:05

My heart fell down to my feet. Fear

45:08

ballooned in its place. To hide

45:10

it, I snarl at her. But how do

45:12

you know? Her eyes look dim

45:14

yet terribly bright like cloud shrouded

45:17

moons. I

45:18

know everything the monster thinks. I

45:20

know everything the monster thinks. The

45:22

flower in my chest continued to bloom.

45:25

Thick, black pedals, unfurling one

45:27

by

45:28

one. No, you don't. I

45:30

know because the monster is the forest. And

45:33

I used to love the forest

45:35

more than anything, even

45:37

more than I loved my brothers. That's

45:39

how I know. She reached from

45:41

my hand. Her skin was cracked

45:43

and dry and so terribly thin.

45:46

Moonlight filtered through it revealing

45:48

the mummified musculature and delicate

45:50

bones

45:51

beneath. Come with

45:52

me. I recoil. No.

45:55

Her eyes blazed for an instant. Perlescent

45:58

moon yellow flaring to

45:59

gold. She then relaxed and folded

46:02

her hands on the cell.

46:03

Alright. I'll stay with you

46:05

instead. I don't want you to.

46:08

I almost spat. But what

46:10

kind of hero would that make me? No

46:12

hero at all, of course. Only

46:14

resentful brat who made his mother cry,

46:17

who hated helping his family, who

46:19

abandoned his baby brother to the beast

46:21

in the deep dark woods. Would

46:23

I also chase away my best friend, my

46:25

only companion, my fairy tale

46:28

for the crime of simply trying to help me?

46:31

How foolish would that make me? I

46:33

knew she wasn't human, so that made

46:35

her something else. Maybe

46:37

an elf or a fairy or a

46:39

creature no one had ever even heard of.

46:42

And what if she needed my help? What

46:44

if she was cursed? For all

46:46

I knew she was some kind of princess?

46:49

But no matter what she was, I

46:51

loved her. Didn't I? Yes.

46:54

And I must have loved her for a reason. Shirley,

46:57

my instincts weren't wrong. She

46:59

was scary, but she was good.

47:01

She had to be, okay,

47:03

what do you want?

47:05

To tell you about my first brother. Curiosity

47:08

surged. What about him? She

47:11

smiled, frog like mouth opening

47:13

over small fine teeth. The

47:15

important things.

47:17

She looked down. Spide relashes shaded

47:19

her moon yellow eyes. He was

47:21

littleer than me. He loved

47:24

cats, cats and

47:26

going fishing or his favorite things in the

47:28

world. He got a fish hook

47:30

stuck in his hand once. And

47:32

it left a big, lumpy scar like an

47:34

earthworm. But that didn't put

47:36

him off fishing. He sure

47:38

did love fishing.

47:40

A single tear rolled down her cheek

47:42

I waited. He wanted to build a

47:44

little house by a river, a

47:47

river that froze in wintertime and

47:49

shown my glass. He'd

47:51

fish in the river every day and

47:53

cook the fish in his fireplace. The

47:56

cats would eat first because

47:58

he loved them so much. He

48:00

was going to plant an apple tree so he could

48:02

pick the apples and teach wild deer to

48:04

eat them out of his

48:05

hand.

48:06

What was his name? Wendy's eyes

48:08

darkened.

48:09

I don't remember. The moon rose

48:11

behind her, obscured by the twisted

48:13

branches of the valley oaks, crickets

48:16

and night insects saying a peculiar

48:18

orchestra that pulsed through the

48:20

night. After a while, Windy

48:22

continued. My brother didn't believe

48:24

in monsters. That's why it

48:26

was so easy for the monster to catch him

48:29

because he didn't believe in it. He

48:31

loved the monster. And didn't

48:34

believe anything he loved could be evil.

48:36

Not when the monster heard him. Not

48:39

when it pulled his arms and legs off.

48:42

Not even when it tore his head away. The

48:44

monster pulled so hard. That

48:47

part of my brother's spine came out.

48:49

I saw it. It looked like

48:51

a root. I don't want

48:54

to hear anymore. Monster took

48:56

my brother's arms and his

48:58

legs. And his body,

49:00

but it left his head behind. So

49:03

when the monster left, I

49:05

took my brother's head out into the forest,

49:08

spine was sharp and slippery. It

49:11

cut my hands. Stop.

49:14

I got lost. It was

49:16

nighttime. My brother's little

49:18

cat followed me. He cried

49:21

and cried like a kitten

49:23

who lost its mother. I

49:25

cried with it while the owls watched.

49:28

I was so scared they would swoop down and

49:30

carry it away and pull its

49:32

head off and eat it. Like the

49:34

monster did to my brother. I

49:39

got lost. But finally

49:41

found a pond. It's dried

49:43

up now, but it wasn't back then. There

49:46

was a scum on it and no fish inside,

49:49

but there was water. I dug

49:51

a little hole on the shore and put my brother's

49:53

head in it. I covered his

49:55

spine root with dirt and leaves,

49:58

but left his head above the ground. Then

50:01

I scooped up the pond water and watered

50:03

him. The scrum got

50:05

in his eyes. The stub.

50:08

I stayed with him for days. So

50:10

did his cat. I ate

50:12

acorns and drank from the pond,

50:15

and I watered his head every morning and evening,

50:18

but he didn't grow back. He

50:20

just rotted. His eyes

50:22

turned gray and sink into his head.

50:25

His hair fell out. His skin

50:27

turned to bad colors, then

50:29

swelled and split and slowed away.

50:32

I didn't wanna live without it. So

50:35

I went home and waited for the monster to kill

50:37

me, but he didn't kill me.

50:40

Instead, he gave me

50:42

food, but delicious stew

50:44

with thick brown gravy and

50:46

corn and meat. I was

50:48

so hungry. I hate it all. Except

50:51

the last bite. I didn't

50:53

eat the last bite because

50:55

when I scooped it up in my spoon,

50:58

and the gravy drained off. I

51:00

saw it was a soggy piece of skin

51:03

with a big lumpy scar on it

51:06

just like an earthworm.

51:08

Shut up. I screamed. No.

51:11

I have to tell you about the monster

51:14

because I can't fight him

51:15

alone.

51:16

She stepped away from the windowsill.

51:18

Go to sleep now. She went

51:20

away. I lay awake and thought

51:22

of her brother's head rotting away under

51:24

the silver moon Dead eyes

51:27

forever locked on his stagnant pond

51:29

while bugs crawled up his spine root

51:31

and ate him from the inside out. The

51:35

next morning my mother asked me to spend

51:37

the day with her in Noah. I wanted

51:39

to, more than anything, but

51:41

the idea of placing my head filled

51:43

as it was with Wendy's nightmares, beside

51:46

her and no one made me sick. What

51:48

if the nightmares sloshed out of my head and

51:51

into theirs? What if I contaminated

51:53

them and gave my dying mother bad

51:55

dreams for the remainder of her painful life?

51:58

Instead, I stayed in my room with

52:00

the blind shut and the curtains drawn, emerging

52:03

only to cook meals and clean when my

52:05

mother vomited up her lunch. When

52:08

night fell, I locked every door,

52:10

turned on every light, and piled my

52:12

bed with every blanket I could find. I

52:15

lay awake, petrified, and suffocating

52:18

until morning came. Only then

52:20

did I drift into an exhausted sleep?

52:23

Wendy didn't come the next night or

52:25

the one after that or even the night

52:27

after that? I'd just begun

52:29

to convince myself that she was some kind of

52:31

bizarre and reoccurring nightmare, a

52:34

delusion brought on by my inability to

52:36

cope with my own grief and fear when

52:38

a loud tap startled me from a twilight

52:40

sleep. I curled up immediately

52:43

who covered my ears. It did nothing

52:45

to muffled the sound of Wendy's withered fingertips.

52:48

I grit my teeth. One tap,

52:51

23456,

52:54

ten, twenty, thirty five, fifty

52:56

one. I finally shot

52:58

up, go away, the tapping

53:01

ceased. I sat there, breathing

53:03

heavily, and waiting for the glass to shatter

53:06

for windy to crawl in like a giant broken

53:08

spider and pull my head off before I could

53:10

even scream. I'd read the

53:12

heads were conscious for up to five minutes

53:14

following decapitation. Would

53:16

I be conscious? What would it be

53:18

like to scream without a body? Then

53:21

her ragged voice emanated from the

53:23

corner.

53:23

Why are you so mean to me now?

53:26

I reared back up as her bony shadow

53:28

unfolded from the shadows. It

53:30

took several seconds to draw enough breath

53:32

to

53:32

speak. How did she get in here?

53:34

Through the trees. She stayed

53:36

in the corner as indistinct as the

53:39

pale things floating in her eyes.

53:41

There aren't trees in here.

53:43

Trees grow under your house. Little

53:45

ones. Sick and small

53:48

and fighting with

53:49

mushrooms, but they're there.

53:52

They're enough. Why are you here?

53:55

To my immense shame, My voice thickened

53:57

and broke. I am no

53:59

hero. I bought miserably. No

54:01

hero at all.

54:03

You scare me. The monster should

54:05

scare you.

54:06

She drifted out of the shadows and halted

54:08

at the foot of my bed. I'll tell you

54:10

about him soon, but first,

54:13

I'm going to tell you about my second

54:14

brother. I covered my ears and began

54:16

to she struck like a viper

54:18

smacking my hands away. Her skin

54:21

was extraordinarily hot. I

54:23

yelled and flinched. She was older than me.

54:25

How could your second brother be older than your

54:27

first

54:27

brother? I snapped rubbing my hands

54:30

as blisters began to rise. He was

54:32

an orphan who lived in the forest by himself.

54:35

He didn't believe in monsters either.

54:38

He loved everything. No

54:40

matter what happened to him, he

54:42

saw the best in the world. He

54:44

taught me to climb the oaks and cut the missile

54:46

toe away. He loved to be

54:48

on the trees, and I loved

54:50

to be there with him. He recline

54:52

the oaks and stay on the branches all night.

54:55

Singing to the bats and watching the moon.

54:58

He taught me about chamomile tea,

55:01

and acorn paste, and

55:03

Bob Cats and coyotes, He

55:05

made friends with raccoons and gave

55:07

them presents, shiny

55:10

bits of metal that he sanded smooth,

55:12

so the raccoons wouldn't cut their hands.

55:15

He made friends with the crows too.

55:17

He fed them even when he was

55:19

starving, skin, meat,

55:23

bones, they loved bones

55:25

the best. When he taught him

55:27

to speak, the first word they learned was

55:29

bone. They knew how to count

55:31

to nine, they knew hello, and

55:34

yes, and no, and please.

55:37

They even knew his

55:38

name,

55:39

Her eyes flashed cold, dull

55:41

yellow.

55:42

But I don't. Not anymore.

55:45

I don't remember it.

55:47

I realized I wasn't breathing and took the

55:49

deepest, quietest breath I could manage.

55:52

My oldest brother said monsters aren't real.

55:55

Monsters are evil. She told

55:57

me. The timber of her voice became

55:59

deep and fast and silly. The

56:02

voice of a sweet fool. I

56:04

could almost see him tall and

56:06

painfully thin with dirty hair

56:08

in an

56:08

earnest, homely face. Nobody's

56:11

really evil windy. Sometimes

56:13

they're scared or stupid or confused

56:16

or hurt. Sometimes I guess

56:18

they're bad, but no one is

56:20

evil,

56:21

so no one can be a monster. Her

56:24

voice broke. She uttered a soft

56:26

sob and angrily wiped her murky

56:28

eyes. I thought of the

56:30

forest of the Prada natural silence

56:32

in those molten eyes burning in

56:34

the gloom. Monsters didn't

56:37

exist I knew that, but

56:39

that thing did. And if it wasn't a

56:41

monster, what was it? A

56:43

monster didn't want to be caught scared

56:46

or stupid. Or confused or

56:48

hurt. It wanted to be powerful

56:51

and it was to prove

56:53

it Monsters slaughtered

56:55

all of my brother's friends. The

56:58

crows, the raccoons, the

57:00

woodpeckers, and the squirrels. It

57:03

brought them to my brother, fur

57:05

and feathers and all. My

57:07

brother screamed. I'd never

57:09

heard such a scream. Should

57:12

have split the world apart, then

57:14

the monster broke my brother's arms and

57:16

legs and threw him in the well.

57:19

And left him there for days. My

57:22

poor brother begged for food. The

57:24

monster ignored him. Until

57:27

one morning, it grabbed one of my brother's

57:29

dead friends, a little raccoon

57:32

with maggots in its eyes, It

57:35

threw the raccoon down to my

57:36

brother. My brother pounced

57:38

on it like a starving rat,

57:41

and he screamed again. Monster

57:44

laughed and threw all the animals into

57:46

the well. Some of them hit the

57:48

stones and split in half. Others

57:51

exploded when they hit the bottom. My

57:54

brother laid air, broken

57:56

and dying, screaming

57:58

as the corpses of things he loved best

58:01

buried him and fur and wet

58:03

stinking

58:04

rock. I saw it

58:05

all, the smell. Still

58:08

in my mouth. It hides

58:10

under my tongue and clings inside

58:12

my nose

58:13

and fills my lungs. Reminding

58:16

me Always reminding me.

58:19

I waited both hands over my mouth

58:21

because I was afraid of what would come out,

58:23

useless words childish

58:25

sobbs, endless screams, or

58:28

laughter. Monster left my brother

58:30

to rock in the well. I went

58:32

to him one night. It was the kind

58:35

of night my brother liked most, clear

58:38

and cold. Full

58:40

of bats and bright with moonlight. The

58:43

snow. Oh, the

58:45

snow. I

58:49

wanted to go down and see him and all his

58:51

friends. They were my friends

58:53

too, and I loved them. But

58:55

there was no way down into the well. So

58:58

instead, I ran into the forest.

59:01

Even though it was night and the petals

59:03

were all furled, I picked

59:05

every flower I could find. An

59:07

orange load. So many, they

59:09

kept slipping away and left the trail behind

59:12

me. I carried the flowers

59:14

back to the well and dropped them in. And

59:16

even though it was night, even

59:19

though they were picked and dead, They

59:21

blossomed as they fell. In

59:23

the morning, that old dry

59:26

well was overgrown. Vines

59:29

and wild flowers exploded out like a

59:31

fountain covering every

59:33

last stone. I loved

59:35

those flowers so much. I

59:37

sat by them often, especially

59:40

on the cold, clear nights when

59:42

bats swooped low. On

59:44

those nights, I would look into the flowers.

59:47

And see eyes, the

59:49

bright, curious eyes of raccoons, and

59:52

the small, dark star eyes

59:55

of

59:55

crows. But even though

59:57

I searched, I never saw

59:59

the eyes of my brother.

1:00:01

Where's the well? Under this house, I

1:00:04

couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I

1:00:06

couldn't even think. went to the well

1:00:08

every night. When they started

1:00:10

to build this house, I got

1:00:12

scared. I

1:00:13

thought of my brother and his friends trapped

1:00:16

in an old well under a house in

1:00:18

the dark, forever forgotten,

1:00:21

so I ate them. All the

1:00:23

vines, all the flowers, all

1:00:26

the fawns, all their

1:00:28

eyes, and I crawled down

1:00:30

into the well and pulled up the roots. There

1:00:33

were so many, somewhat

1:00:35

deep, somewhat shallow,

1:00:38

somewhat big, somewhere

1:00:40

small. Every last one of

1:00:42

them looked like backbones. I

1:00:45

meant to eat them, but I

1:00:47

couldn't. Anymore than I could

1:00:49

have eaten my first brother's backbone. So

1:00:52

I pulled them out of the well and carried them

1:00:54

into the forest. The monster

1:00:56

ruled before us by then, so

1:00:58

I could think of nothing else to do. I

1:01:01

wandered the trees with the roots until

1:01:03

I found a place I knew. The

1:01:05

pond was dry, but the

1:01:07

rest was the same. My

1:01:09

first brother's head was there, attached

1:01:12

to a stalk of polished bone, His

1:01:15

eyes were few shut, and his head

1:01:17

had grown enormous. It

1:01:19

was flat on one end just like a pumpkin

1:01:21

that's grown on its side. But

1:01:23

he smiled when I knelt beside him.

1:01:25

He smiled even wider as

1:01:28

I dug a hundred holes for the roots of

1:01:30

my second brother and all of his friends.

1:01:33

My first brother didn't say anything. He

1:01:35

couldn't because he was just

1:01:37

ahead, but he smiled because

1:01:40

he remembered me.

1:01:42

She covered her eyes. I don't

1:01:44

even remember his name.

1:01:47

I watched her helplessly Each

1:01:49

sob sent a pulse of overwhelming sorrow

1:01:52

through my own body, waves of

1:01:54

grief on a shore of flesh and

1:01:56

bone, You are a good sister.

1:01:59

I know it. No.

1:02:03

Nothing I did was good enough.

1:02:06

She turned away, pale form melting

1:02:09

into the shadows. Wendy, don't go,

1:02:11

don't, a single soft

1:02:13

sob emanated from the corner. Then

1:02:15

all was silent. I lay

1:02:18

awake for a long time thinking

1:02:20

of the forgotten well filled with bones

1:02:22

of slaughtered animals of the boy

1:02:24

who screamed so loudly the world should

1:02:26

have split apart. As I finally

1:02:28

drifted off to sleep, I heard the echo

1:02:30

of a terrible heartrending whale echoing

1:02:33

from under my bedroom floor. The

1:02:42

next morning, I ventured out and searched for

1:02:44

Wendy. When I couldn't find her,

1:02:46

I retreated to the patch of miners' lettuce

1:02:48

and waited for hours. In

1:02:50

the distance, the forest drew my

1:02:52

eyes like a magnet, a smear

1:02:54

of gold and green, magical,

1:02:57

monstrous, At some

1:02:59

point, I thought I saw a bright eyes

1:03:01

burning through the trees. I

1:03:03

swallowed the lump in my throat and went home.

1:03:06

Eight nights later, I'd given up, Reality

1:03:09

had already swept Windy halfway. My

1:03:12

mother was sicker, closer to death

1:03:14

than ever. No one must have sensed

1:03:16

it, He was so wild, his behavior

1:03:18

barely qualified as human, and it took

1:03:20

everything I had to handle him. It

1:03:22

wasn't enough though, Even hours past

1:03:25

dark, he regularly burst into miserable

1:03:27

screeching wailing. Though it kept me

1:03:29

awake, I was happy that I didn't have to

1:03:31

deal with it. That was one good

1:03:33

thing about my mother's lavishing of all her attention

1:03:36

on him. At least, I didn't have to soothe

1:03:38

his night terrors. I stayed

1:03:40

up listening in case she needed help,

1:03:42

but everything remained quiet. After

1:03:45

a while, I drifted. A

1:03:47

familiar tapping roused me. Before

1:03:50

I was even awake, I rose and stumbled

1:03:52

to the window, frozen air gusted

1:03:54

in, smelling of snow and dark

1:03:57

earth, Wendy stood there

1:03:59

looking dead, deader than she

1:04:01

had the day I saw the skulls of her brother,

1:04:03

a shambling monument to old dry

1:04:06

rot. Why are you here? I

1:04:09

asked, she slung a withered

1:04:11

spidery leg over the sill and climbed

1:04:13

into my

1:04:13

room. Her bone pendant swung

1:04:16

back and forth dirty and jagged

1:04:18

as ever.

1:04:19

I've come to tell you about my third brother

1:04:21

Her spars dry hair caught the

1:04:23

moonlight blazing warm silver

1:04:26

that glanced off her crumbling flesh and

1:04:28

threw her ruined features into sharp relief.

1:04:31

I could see the dim suggestion of bones

1:04:33

within her desiccated limbs. It

1:04:35

reminded me of the bats how the moon

1:04:37

had shown through their wings making the

1:04:39

bones look so beautiful and

1:04:41

fine. He was the youngest of all,

1:04:44

barely more than a baby. Sick.

1:04:47

Frail and slow, just

1:04:50

like your brother, very

1:04:52

slow, but smart enough to listen

1:04:54

to me,

1:04:55

She lurched forward with a series of soft

1:04:57

clicks, the exposed bones of her

1:04:59

feet tapping the

1:05:00

floor. He never went into the forest.

1:05:04

He never tempted the monster.

1:05:06

He did exactly what I told him. My

1:05:09

heart ached for this tiny, slow boy,

1:05:11

Of course, he had listened to Windy. This

1:05:14

ancient shambling horror whispering

1:05:16

dire warnings of monsters and dead brothers

1:05:19

and eyes and flowers grown from

1:05:21

carnage. What could a tiny

1:05:23

boy do, but listen.

1:05:24

I saved him from the monster.

1:05:27

She rasped. Dolled yellow eyes

1:05:29

glinted in her face. From

1:05:31

my monster, but my brother

1:05:33

had his own monster. His

1:05:35

monster tried to starve him, So

1:05:38

I fed him, berries, be

1:05:40

corn paste. He didn't like

1:05:42

it, but he was so hungry that he ate it

1:05:44

anyway. Him wild

1:05:46

tea, roasted mice. But

1:05:48

when my brother didn't die, his

1:05:51

monster dashed his head against the wall

1:05:54

and hit him under the house, He

1:05:56

was cold when I found him.

1:05:59

Cold and dead. Brains

1:06:01

leaking from his broken head. I

1:06:04

couldn't leave him there, not

1:06:06

by the well, not forgotten

1:06:08

in the dark until the end of time,

1:06:11

so I ate him. I opened

1:06:13

my mouth like this. Her

1:06:16

jaw clicked and stretched stretched

1:06:19

stretched the contortion I could barely comprehend

1:06:21

I covered my eyes.

1:06:23

Aid his arms, his legs,

1:06:26

his guts, his bones,

1:06:29

but I didn't eat his head or his spine.

1:06:32

I took those into the forest. I

1:06:35

found the dried up pond. It

1:06:37

was not pond anymore. But

1:06:39

a green pet filled with eyes

1:06:42

and flowers. My first

1:06:44

brother smiled at my approach. He

1:06:46

was enormous by then. Size

1:06:48

of a cottage with a mouth

1:06:50

like a cave. His head

1:06:53

was so smashed, so

1:06:55

flat. That one of his eyes had

1:06:57

bumped into the other. They

1:06:59

bulged now, displaced and

1:07:01

scarred with old infections. Looking

1:07:04

at them, made me cry. How

1:07:06

stupid I'd been? How very

1:07:08

stupid planting him

1:07:11

with such a small root? I

1:07:13

would not make that mistake again. I

1:07:15

planted my third brother in a deep

1:07:18

hole with his entire spine so

1:07:20

that he might grow properly. Big

1:07:22

and strong. With a healthy

1:07:25

body and a mouth that could speak. Instead

1:07:28

of filling the hole with earth, I

1:07:30

vomited up his body, the

1:07:32

skin, the muscle, the bones.

1:07:36

I packed layer of dirt over it

1:07:38

and kissed his ruined head. Did

1:07:40

he grow?

1:07:42

Yes. Didn't you see him?

1:07:44

I thought of the skulls, so many

1:07:47

boys, so many tragedies, All

1:07:49

of them forgotten. I began

1:07:51

to cry. She came closer.

1:07:53

I steeled myself for a mummified

1:07:55

horror, but no, it was only

1:07:57

windy. Dear wrinkly, lovely

1:08:00

windy.

1:08:01

Do you want to meet them? My

1:08:03

brothers? I felt like a deer trapped

1:08:05

in the headlights of an on rushing monster

1:08:07

truck. She took my

1:08:09

hand. Her skin felt dry and

1:08:11

scratchy and burning hot.

1:08:13

Jeez. I know they'll love

1:08:15

you. Real heroes do difficult

1:08:17

things, terrifying things, and

1:08:19

it's easy because in fairy tales,

1:08:21

everything turns out right in the end. So

1:08:24

I climbed out the window and followed Windy

1:08:26

into the night. Owels

1:08:35

watched as we trekked through the yard. A

1:08:37

bat dived and landed on my shoulder,

1:08:40

squeaking affectionately before taking off

1:08:42

again. Rathcoons lumbered

1:08:44

through the grass, dark eyes shining.

1:08:47

Windy and I reached the miner's lettuce, dropped

1:08:50

to our bellies and crawled through the burrow, It

1:08:52

was even colder now. Delicate

1:08:54

layers of ice covered the mud and crunched

1:08:57

under my weight. The walls

1:08:59

felt dangerously narrow around my shoulders,

1:09:01

With a panicky hang, I realized

1:09:03

I would soon be too big, too old

1:09:06

for the burrow. Windy's

1:09:08

stiff wrinkle dress rasped against

1:09:10

the walls until it grew odden with

1:09:12

mud and half melted frost when it began

1:09:14

to squelch. I preferred

1:09:16

it to the dry hiss because the dry

1:09:18

hiss reminded me of long, rotten

1:09:20

limbs unfolding in the winter forest.

1:09:23

After a timeless span that could have been

1:09:25

ten minutes or ten years, we emerged

1:09:28

into the clearing of brothers. I

1:09:30

crawled out with the relieved sigh. The

1:09:32

night was cold, but warmer than the tunnel

1:09:35

had been. I rubbed my eyes and

1:09:37

looked around for windy. A

1:09:39

great rumble sounded behind me.

1:09:41

I spun around with a shriek expecting you

1:09:43

see silver eyes in the sleek white form

1:09:45

of a cougar. It was a head

1:09:48

an incomprehensible gigantic

1:09:50

head squashed on one side. The

1:09:52

eyes had merged into a great lumpy

1:09:55

orb covered by thin flesh an

1:09:57

infection split the eyelid revealing

1:09:59

dim, murky light, the color of

1:10:01

lamplip puss. Its mouth

1:10:04

thin, frog like ugly

1:10:07

tragic split apart, widening

1:10:09

until it was the size of a cave, a

1:10:11

thin moon pale form slid

1:10:13

down the side whooping happily

1:10:16

and hit the ground in a puff of dead leaves

1:10:18

and

1:10:18

dirt, windy, of course. She

1:10:20

stood up dusting herself off and spread

1:10:22

her arms.

1:10:23

Meet my brothers. There were so many

1:10:27

heads mostly but bodies too

1:10:29

in varying states of wholeness. Some

1:10:32

were a little more than face and throat.

1:10:34

Some had their shoulders. Some had entire

1:10:36

towardos and some had arms, all

1:10:39

sprouting from the leaf strung earth. Many

1:10:42

looked rotten, a few fleshless, and

1:10:44

one had a twisted spine, a strongly

1:10:47

mussel torso, and a small head that

1:10:49

had been smashed in. Nevertheless,

1:10:52

his eyes shone with joy. Those

1:10:54

that did not have eyes had wet sockets

1:10:57

that glistened and cracked lips that

1:10:59

opened in wide happy smiles. Their

1:11:01

heads twisted excitedly. Jaws

1:11:04

clicked behind them and a

1:11:06

great pit exploding with vines and

1:11:08

flowers, I saw something else

1:11:10

long and horrifically thin. Covered

1:11:13

in what looked like a thousand

1:11:14

eyes. They're

1:11:15

always happy to see me.

1:11:16

Wendy said happily. I love them

1:11:19

so much. Dred and horror

1:11:21

were eating me alive. How are

1:11:23

they living Wendy's face fell?

1:11:26

Because I feed them things that are alive.

1:11:29

I don't want to, but I have to.

1:11:31

I feed them the mice, the squirrels,

1:11:34

the birds, and the animals that

1:11:36

live in the forest. It's alright.

1:11:39

Because those things are all part of the forest,

1:11:42

and the forest is the monster. It

1:11:44

isn't enough to grow them. Especially

1:11:47

not now since I have no more pawn

1:11:49

to water than live, but it keeps

1:11:51

them alive. In one day,

1:11:54

when the monster is finally dead,

1:11:57

I'll cut them up and feed a piece to

1:11:59

each of them, and that will make

1:12:01

them all whole

1:12:01

again. Her brother sent up what sheers

1:12:04

they could from the rumbling roar of a

1:12:06

great head to the chattering of baby

1:12:08

teeth in fleshless tiny

1:12:09

jaws. How many brothers

1:12:12

did you have, Wendy?

1:12:13

I don't remember. But they're all

1:12:15

here now. I looked around the clearing,

1:12:18

tears, stinging my eyes, there

1:12:20

were so many, so very

1:12:22

very many Did the monster kill

1:12:24

them

1:12:24

all? Not all. I killed

1:12:27

some. Sometimes to

1:12:29

feed my other brothers. But

1:12:31

only if they weren't going to be alive for long

1:12:33

anyway. And then I planted

1:12:35

them here, so they wouldn't really

1:12:38

die. Sometimes I killed

1:12:40

them to keep them from being swallowed up into

1:12:42

the hungry trees and becoming

1:12:44

the monster. Their chatter grew

1:12:46

louder swelling into a deafening

1:12:48

crescendo.

1:12:50

Now sit down and listen

1:12:52

because I'm going to tell you about the monster

1:12:54

now. All at once, her brothers

1:12:56

fell silent. I felt their eyes,

1:12:59

the bright ones, the rotten ones,

1:13:01

the gray decayed jelling ones, be

1:13:04

empty sockets, all fixed on me.

1:13:06

I wanted to run, but if a hero

1:13:08

is to succeed, he must learn everything

1:13:11

he can. Even from someone who

1:13:13

might be a monster. So

1:13:15

I lowered myself to the ground, Starlight

1:13:17

streamed through the trees, bathing me

1:13:20

in a net of shadow and dim

1:13:21

silver. Windy sat too,

1:13:23

folding to the ground like a monstrous insect,

1:13:26

He was my father. I watched,

1:13:29

paralyzed as a single tear slid

1:13:31

from the infected slit in the eye of

1:13:33

the great head.

1:13:34

Everyone knew what my father was. But

1:13:37

they didn't care because he was powerful. Too

1:13:40

powerful for anything but awe and

1:13:42

adoration. So they let

1:13:44

him do what he wanted. Even

1:13:46

to me and my brother, they

1:13:48

did not care about us because we

1:13:50

were not powerful We were

1:13:53

only tainted blood of

1:13:55

the monster, but with none of

1:13:57

the monster's power, but they

1:13:59

were wrong. I was tainted

1:14:01

yes but my brother wasn't.

1:14:04

He was good. He was perfect.

1:14:07

I did everything I could to protect

1:14:09

him. But it wasn't enough.

1:14:12

It's never enough. You did

1:14:14

everything you could. My words

1:14:16

sounded like dead leaves stirring, That

1:14:19

was enough.

1:14:20

Clive was away at the pond, planting

1:14:22

my brother's spine in the earth, my

1:14:24

father cleaned his carcass and polished

1:14:27

his bones. After

1:14:29

I ate the stew, he grabbed

1:14:31

my brother's rib and stabbed me. It

1:14:34

slid all the way through me and came

1:14:36

out the other end. It hurt,

1:14:39

but I didn't feel like I was dying even

1:14:41

as my blood spilled over me and flooded my

1:14:44

lungs, drowning me.

1:14:46

I didn't feel weak. I

1:14:48

felt strong. I

1:14:51

hit my face, a shutter after shutter

1:14:53

crawled down my spine. I

1:14:55

went to the pile of cleaned bones and found

1:14:58

one of my brother's stripped fingers. It

1:15:00

was smaller than I expected and

1:15:03

sharper. I put it through my

1:15:05

father's eye, then I dragged

1:15:07

him into the forest, pulled

1:15:09

the rib out of my chest, and

1:15:11

put it in his other eye. Then

1:15:13

went home. I killed him.

1:15:16

I said to everyone. I killed

1:15:18

the monster. I told them of

1:15:20

my brother. How it saved his life by

1:15:22

planting his head in the earth. But

1:15:25

instead of welcoming me, they

1:15:27

cut my stomach. Oh my

1:15:29

god slid out. Hot and

1:15:31

wreaking. They steamed

1:15:33

in the night. Under the cold

1:15:35

moon, then the people dragged

1:15:37

me. To the forest, leaving

1:15:40

me in the snow to die. I

1:15:42

put my hands inside my stomach while

1:15:44

my guts had been to keep them

1:15:47

warm. It didn't keep them

1:15:49

warm, not even a little.

1:15:51

I remember what it felt like when my fingers

1:15:54

froze, when I tried to uncurl

1:15:56

my hand. It cracked

1:15:58

and broke and lay there in

1:16:00

the snow, frozen and

1:16:03

gutted, staring at the

1:16:05

stars,

1:16:06

And I was angry. So

1:16:08

very, very angry.

1:16:11

Why did they do that to you? Because

1:16:13

I was unclean. Decreiter

1:16:16

of corpses, murderer

1:16:18

of my own blood, a monster,

1:16:21

to them, the people who

1:16:23

had known my father, who

1:16:25

had known what he was. I

1:16:28

was the monster. I

1:16:30

lay there riding all

1:16:32

through winter. Until I

1:16:34

became pale,

1:16:36

broken, hoodless.

1:16:38

Tears course down my face. My

1:16:40

heart ached

1:16:41

Even though they loved him enough to kill me for

1:16:44

defeating him, they forgot him.

1:16:46

Her murky eyes flared to blinding

1:16:48

gold as she began to cry. They

1:16:51

forgot him and left

1:16:53

him. His body stayed

1:16:55

in the forest and fed the scavengers building

1:16:58

the bones and meat of their young.

1:17:01

His hair line burrows and fill

1:17:03

of nests flies

1:17:05

fed on his rock and spawned

1:17:08

maggots hatched in guts and

1:17:10

his eyes. I

1:17:12

know. I saw I

1:17:15

stood right there and watched it all.

1:17:17

Crows took flight. Their startled

1:17:19

cries filled the night and their glossy

1:17:21

wings blocked the quote

1:17:22

stars. I watched his bones crumble

1:17:25

into soil. I was so

1:17:27

very, very satisfied

1:17:29

that he had rotted, but that

1:17:31

was because I didn't understand. I

1:17:34

didn't understand that he hadn't rotted

1:17:36

away. He had only changed,

1:17:39

changed into something else, into

1:17:42

everything else, Now

1:17:44

the trees grow out of him. He

1:17:47

gets to be in the trees. My

1:17:49

trees He's

1:17:52

dead and forgotten and

1:17:55

beautiful with more power

1:17:57

than he ever had in life. I

1:17:59

am dead and hated and ugly,

1:18:02

weaker than I've ever been. I'm

1:18:05

forgotten, and so is he

1:18:07

Now I'm the only one who knows. I'm

1:18:10

the only one who remembers.

1:18:13

But I know now. He

1:18:15

always kills my brothers. Soon,

1:18:19

I will have more heads to plant beside

1:18:21

the pond. Tell someone

1:18:23

Make them burn the forest down, tell

1:18:25

everyone. No one will listen.

1:18:29

No one will care. No

1:18:31

one ever has. I have.

1:18:34

I can't even fight him because

1:18:36

I'm trapped.

1:18:37

She spread her desk located arms as

1:18:39

slender and delicate as the bones of

1:18:41

bats. I'm cursed. He

1:18:44

cursed me. I was never

1:18:46

strong. Never. But

1:18:49

every year I grow weaker. Every

1:18:52

season, there is less of me. Soon,

1:18:55

I will crumble and fade and

1:18:57

be drawn up through the roots of the trees. He

1:19:00

will eat me. I will die

1:19:02

and he will live on.

1:19:04

He will win. There it was,

1:19:06

my redemption, my quest, my

1:19:09

chance to be a hero. I won't let

1:19:11

him. I'll fight him. Wendy's

1:19:13

finger spread revealing a single

1:19:15

eye bright and deep and

1:19:17

golden. We can fight him together.

1:19:20

In that moment, it was the only thing I

1:19:22

wanted to live for untold centuries,

1:19:25

ageless and immortal, years

1:19:27

of golden days and cold, clear

1:19:29

nights, in which to befriend bats

1:19:31

and raccoons and crows, no

1:19:34

school, no sick mother, no

1:19:36

noah, no unbearable soul

1:19:38

crushing fear of what would become of him.

1:19:41

No more fear of days and nights

1:19:43

and seasons and years of an entire

1:19:45

lifetime without the people I loved most.

1:19:47

Instead, I would have untold lifetimes

1:19:50

with new people to love at every turn.

1:19:52

People could help. People I could save.

1:19:55

People I could be a hero for. I

1:19:57

could finally be enough.

1:19:59

No. Haven't you been

1:20:01

listening to be with me?

1:20:04

To be like me, you have

1:20:07

to eat.

1:20:08

She told me miserably.

1:20:09

You have to eat something alive.

1:20:12

My stomach churned but I grip my

1:20:14

teeth and resolve to do it because

1:20:16

a hero always does what needs to be done.

1:20:19

I would eat birds, bats, coyotes,

1:20:21

mice, worms, owls, beetles,

1:20:23

or anything else because I had to.

1:20:26

And I didn't even have to be sad because

1:20:28

all of those things were part of the forest

1:20:30

which meant they were part of the monster. I

1:20:32

will. I'll eat anything. You don't

1:20:35

have to eat anything.

1:20:36

Just One thing. What?

1:20:40

She wiped her eyes. And the monster

1:20:42

fed my brother to me. It

1:20:44

cursed us both. And bound

1:20:46

us. No one can fight with

1:20:48

me unless they're bound to

1:20:49

me.

1:20:50

How can I do that? I can't

1:20:52

tell you. Not unless

1:20:55

you promise to do it first. You

1:20:57

have to promise no matter

1:20:59

what. It's the only way I

1:21:01

can tell you. It's the only way to

1:21:03

break the

1:21:04

curse. The only way

1:21:06

to help me. I promise. Whatever

1:21:08

it takes to help you, I promise I'll do it.

1:21:11

She finally lowered her hands. Her

1:21:13

eyes were so bright, so golden,

1:21:16

molten, and full of tears. Promise

1:21:18

me. I promise, I

1:21:21

repeat it. How do I do it?

1:21:23

By feeding yourself to us. I

1:21:26

frowned, sure I'd misheard. What

1:21:29

do you mean? Windy grabbed

1:21:31

my hand and pulled me across the clearing

1:21:33

to the tall grass choked pit that had

1:21:36

been upon so long ago and pointed

1:21:38

I looked carefully frowning. Shadows

1:21:42

were thick and impenetrable, but

1:21:44

some of the shadows looked thicker than others.

1:21:46

Substantial somehow as

1:21:48

I watched the darkness coalesced

1:21:51

solidifying into something I recognized

1:21:54

Someone. Noah was

1:21:56

in the pit sleeping fitfully. His

1:21:59

breathing was irregular and wet as

1:22:01

if he'd been

1:22:01

crying. I felt like my heart stopped.

1:22:04

Why is he here, Wendy?

1:22:05

I'm keeping him safe. I

1:22:07

told you. I always keep my

1:22:09

brother safe.

1:22:11

No. I I won't. You

1:22:13

promised, my father will kill

1:22:15

you anyway. He kills everything

1:22:17

my brother's love best. I

1:22:19

wish it could be you, but you don't wanna

1:22:22

fight. You want to run away.

1:22:24

You want to forget your brother. My

1:22:27

brothers don't forget each other.

1:22:29

He won't forget you. Neither

1:22:31

will I. I promise. Comprehension

1:22:34

dawned. Tears flooded my

1:22:36

eyes as all my jealousy, all my

1:22:38

anger, all my resentment flooded

1:22:41

my heart, scorching, all

1:22:43

consuming, a flood of golden

1:22:45

lava burning me alive. I

1:22:47

shook my head.

1:22:49

She nodded all silver moonlight

1:22:51

and rich darkness and eyes like

1:22:53

suns.

1:22:54

You are my brother, and you

1:22:57

are his brother. You alone

1:22:59

can bind us. My eternity of

1:23:01

moon silvered nights and velvety bats

1:23:04

of gloom golden mornings and chattering

1:23:06

crows of dark burrows and

1:23:08

oaks with canopies like giant spider

1:23:10

webs of people who needed

1:23:13

me, people I could help, people

1:23:15

I'd be enough for, fell away, Noah

1:23:17

would have that life. That eternity

1:23:20

of animals and trees and magic.

1:23:22

Noah was my mother's favorite. Noah,

1:23:25

who got everything she could give, even

1:23:27

though he did nothing, even though

1:23:29

I did everything. Noah,

1:23:32

who was enough

1:23:33

I wasn't enough. I was the

1:23:36

oldest paving the way for the youngest.

1:23:38

You look so angry.

1:23:40

Wendy said, sadly. So

1:23:42

very very angry,

1:23:45

just like me.

1:23:46

She reached out and stroked my face.

1:23:49

Her finger was papery and heart like

1:23:51

ashes It has to be this way.

1:23:54

He'll still be the hero. He'll

1:23:56

die to make sure we can kill the monster.

1:23:59

And then you'll rest. No

1:24:02

sadness to drown you. No

1:24:04

hate to eat you. No

1:24:06

future to frighten you. Only

1:24:09

a long dark weight,

1:24:12

but it won't last forever because

1:24:14

I'll follow one day. After

1:24:16

I've taught our brother everything he needs to know,

1:24:19

and we'll be together. Maybe

1:24:22

we'll come back here again. But

1:24:24

for joy, not for anger.

1:24:27

We won't have to be angry because

1:24:30

no one won't remember.

1:24:31

No. I stepped back. Wendy

1:24:34

slid forward, an undulating nightmare

1:24:36

of raw and

1:24:37

night. My father will kill you anyway.

1:24:40

And then where will your brother be? When

1:24:43

your mother dies, he'll linger

1:24:45

in the house for days, crying

1:24:47

and cuddling her wet, rotting

1:24:50

body, Pulling her eyes open

1:24:52

each morning until they sink like wet

1:24:54

jelly into her sockets, stuffing

1:24:56

food into her yawing mouth into all

1:24:58

the food is gone. Then

1:25:01

he'll die too alone,

1:25:04

starved, frightened, without

1:25:07

even the brains to comprehend that she's dead.

1:25:10

Wondering why you flapped him. Is

1:25:12

that what you want? Or do you

1:25:14

want him to live? To see the moon

1:25:16

rise and the sun rise more times than he

1:25:18

could ever count? And years

1:25:20

of snow and wind and sun,

1:25:23

do you want him to climb the trees and

1:25:26

sing to the

1:25:26

moon? To befriend the bats

1:25:28

and speak the language of the crow's. I

1:25:31

want that. The words echoed,

1:25:33

rolling back at me like dying waves, I

1:25:36

want that. I want that.

1:25:39

III

1:25:41

windy's golden eyes

1:25:42

burned. I know. She looked

1:25:45

down at Noah's sleeping peacefully in her

1:25:47

dead arms. But

1:25:48

there's only one way.

1:25:49

Tear streamed down my face, the

1:25:51

wind gusted, stinging my rock cheeks,

1:25:54

If you won't do it, then

1:25:56

he has to. And he could.

1:26:00

You're not wrong. He could

1:26:02

bind us. Then you will have everything

1:26:04

you want. I felt like I'd been hit by a

1:26:06

train. I stared up at her

1:26:08

praying I'd misunderstood as her eyes

1:26:11

blazed pits of golden

1:26:12

fire.

1:26:13

And his life will have meant something. You're

1:26:15

the monster, Wendy, the pain

1:26:17

in her face, The grief and rage

1:26:20

cut me to the core. The pain twisted

1:26:22

her into something else and her face

1:26:24

split apart, bearing teeth, some

1:26:26

broken, some perfect, all

1:26:29

overgrown and sharp like the fangs

1:26:31

of a mountain mine.

1:26:32

Monsters eat for eating sake. I

1:26:35

need to live. I live to remember

1:26:37

so that one day I can kill the monster

1:26:39

forever. What would you

1:26:41

eat for?

1:26:42

She shook her monstrous head then spat.

1:26:45

You would only eat to forget. What

1:26:47

was she really? This

1:26:49

withered horrific nightmare before

1:26:51

me? A ghost, a demon,

1:26:54

a trap spirit, so hell bent on

1:26:56

vengeance she drove herself insane? Was

1:26:59

she a liar all along? Or was she

1:27:01

broken? Had her own hatred,

1:27:03

her own misery, walks her into something

1:27:05

beyond comprehension, had her

1:27:07

father her monster bled

1:27:10

into her over untold centuries corrupting

1:27:13

her, possessing her? Was

1:27:15

she old and lonely and sick and

1:27:17

just too

1:27:18

hurt, too angry, too

1:27:20

sad to die, or was

1:27:22

she right? I was so weak.

1:27:25

A child, broken and

1:27:27

helpless. All I had

1:27:29

was love when that monster

1:27:32

took that from me. All I had

1:27:34

was anger until I

1:27:36

found love again. When he

1:27:38

took that, my anger

1:27:40

grew again and again.

1:27:43

Ten times, one hundred times, one

1:27:45

thousand times. No

1:27:47

matter what I did for my brothers, no

1:27:50

matter what I did to the monster. All

1:27:53

my love and all my anger wasn't

1:27:55

enough. It was never

1:27:58

enough. I glanced at no one, nestled

1:28:00

in her arms. He was

1:28:02

enough. He was always enough.

1:28:05

I am trapped, and my brothers,

1:28:08

all of them. Are trapped.

1:28:11

I am their keeper in more

1:28:13

ways than one. I tend

1:28:15

them. Yes. But

1:28:17

I keep them here too. There

1:28:20

is trapped as me, trapped

1:28:22

by me even. You

1:28:24

will be trapped too, and you

1:28:26

will have to trap yourself, but

1:28:28

only until I'm free. When

1:28:31

I am free, I will rest Rest

1:28:34

until I am strong again. Then

1:28:36

I will burn the forest. I

1:28:38

will salt the earth. I will

1:28:41

slaughter the animals, I will

1:28:43

drown their burrows, I will

1:28:45

crush their nests, and I will tear

1:28:47

every root out of the earth. And

1:28:50

at the end of it all, I will

1:28:52

find you and lead you into

1:28:54

the hot summer sunlight. Together,

1:28:57

we will burn and everything that's

1:28:59

him will die, but

1:29:01

I can only do that if I'm free.

1:29:04

I can only be free if there's someone

1:29:06

left behind to remember.

1:29:09

This is how you will remember. You

1:29:11

promised. You promised

1:29:13

me. I didn't promise to eat my baby

1:29:15

brother. But

1:29:16

he will eat you. One

1:29:19

of you must have came with me. She

1:29:21

screamed. I thought of

1:29:23

bones, of cursed human heads

1:29:25

grown to the size of houses, scarred

1:29:28

and infected, and unable to speak,

1:29:30

I bought of broken babies dashed

1:29:32

to death by cruel parents. I

1:29:34

bought of sad, sweet orphans, cast

1:29:37

down dry wells to die and rot,

1:29:39

I thought of rotting mothers and forgotten

1:29:41

brothers of monsters that could be

1:29:43

fought and monsters that always won.

1:29:46

And I out of flesh and hair

1:29:48

and burrows and bones, bones

1:29:50

in the walls, bones in the ground,

1:29:53

bones and eyes. I

1:29:55

met Wendy's gaze, I promised

1:29:57

I'd do whatever it took to help you.

1:30:00

Her golden eyes narrowed. Her face

1:30:02

was white and what a mummified

1:30:04

horror of human and lion. Yes.

1:30:07

You did. Okay. I'll

1:30:10

keep my promise. She held

1:30:12

my brother out. He whimpered and

1:30:14

curled. I looked at him. My

1:30:16

heart ached for him. For her,

1:30:19

for her brothers, for my mother,

1:30:21

and for me. My mind

1:30:23

raced. Everything ached everything

1:30:25

would always ache. This was

1:30:27

not fair. Nothing was fair.

1:30:30

Nothing was ever enough and this would

1:30:32

be no different. I looked

1:30:34

up at Wendy and raised my hands. Before

1:30:37

she could tip my brother into my arms,

1:30:39

I ripped the pendant from her dry, bony

1:30:41

neck and plunged it into her eye. It

1:30:44

bulge then exploded spewing

1:30:46

boiling yellow liquor all over my face.

1:30:49

The pain was exquisite, overwhelming,

1:30:52

volcanic, The smell of burnt

1:30:54

fat and drying meat filled my nostrils.

1:30:56

Windy's eyes darkened as golden

1:30:59

blood slid down her crumbling face.

1:31:01

Somewhere far away from the pain

1:31:03

and the terror and the now my

1:31:05

baby brother began to cry. Windy

1:31:08

folded down to the earth shadows

1:31:10

exploded out of her, each one full

1:31:12

of the thousand blinking eyes, round

1:31:15

and bright, small and dark,

1:31:17

wide and light, rich gold

1:31:19

and bright, hot silver. The

1:31:22

darkness roiled, receded, then

1:31:24

turned pale, and snapped back into the

1:31:26

form of a dead, wrinkled girl. Wendy

1:31:29

seized once, just once.

1:31:31

A dim yellow glimmer flickered in her

1:31:33

sockets like faraway

1:31:35

stars. She said,

1:31:37

don't forget. Then her eyes

1:31:39

went out. I woke up in

1:31:41

the morning, frost tacked to the ground,

1:31:44

and it was so cold my bones ached.

1:31:47

I tried to fall asleep again, but noah

1:31:49

was crying. Friends screamy

1:31:51

whales that echoed as though from a distance

1:31:54

I grimmest and then sat up. I

1:31:56

saw him wandering through the yellow grass.

1:31:59

My heart jolted. I shot up and

1:32:01

stumbled back falling. Wendy

1:32:03

labor, empty and pale,

1:32:05

and so very very dead.

1:32:08

Her bone pendant jotted from her socket,

1:32:11

I touched her stiff, dry hair, nervously.

1:32:14

Gone. Forgotten along

1:32:16

with her brothers and the monster who had

1:32:18

destroyed them. I stared

1:32:20

at her for a long time as the sun crept

1:32:22

high and Noah continued to cry.

1:32:25

Noah, facing a life without his family,

1:32:28

left in a broken system and lost

1:32:30

forgotten. I wondered

1:32:33

about myself as the sun

1:32:35

strengthened and filled Wendy's dry

1:32:37

empty eye sockets with light again. I

1:32:39

realized I didn't know myself. I

1:32:42

knew about myself. I knew I was

1:32:44

hurt, angry, prone to resentment,

1:32:47

and drowned in fear. I knew

1:32:49

I would become angrier and sadder and

1:32:51

meaner as the years wore on. I

1:32:53

would become less and less and less

1:32:56

until I didn't even remember the meaning

1:32:58

of enough, until the desire

1:33:00

to be enough to be a hero was

1:33:02

forgotten. I wondered

1:33:04

about my mother, mom who

1:33:06

cried for hours each day because nothing

1:33:09

she did would be enough to protect Noah

1:33:11

and because she was too sick to be a mother,

1:33:14

forced to exist as a living corpse

1:33:17

rotting away her last days while her

1:33:19

doom toddler giggled beside her,

1:33:22

one of millions, just another

1:33:24

poor care one dying mother.

1:33:26

Forgotten by everyone but her child

1:33:29

who would be forgotten to. I

1:33:31

wondered about Wendy, what she

1:33:33

was, what she'd want. If

1:33:36

what she'd wanted was good or right

1:33:38

or if it mattered at all. And

1:33:41

I wondered about her curse, her binding,

1:33:44

If brother could bind sister and father

1:33:46

or sister and brother could sister

1:33:49

bind brother and brother and

1:33:51

could brother bind mother and son

1:33:54

I spent the morning chasing Noah. It

1:33:56

was hard. My burned, blistered

1:33:58

face terrified him, but I managed

1:34:00

to catch him and take him to the house. My

1:34:03

mother wasn't awake yet, so I

1:34:05

sang him to sleep and left him on the sofa.

1:34:08

Then I returned to Windy in her patch

1:34:10

of minor's lettuce and pulled her limbs

1:34:12

off. It was easy. They

1:34:14

were dry and light like termite

1:34:16

eaten planks left in the sun. I

1:34:19

retched her head off and snapped her papery

1:34:21

torso into pieces. She smelled

1:34:24

foul and rich and terribly old.

1:34:26

Like oak and sage and dirty

1:34:28

fur and rot and bones left

1:34:31

to dry in the sun. I made

1:34:33

a stew of her All our pots were

1:34:35

small so I could only use her fingers.

1:34:38

I'd broken her apart for nothing. My

1:34:41

eyes stung. Tiers dripped into

1:34:43

the pot before I could wipe them away. Windy

1:34:46

stew was foul, a gray sludge

1:34:48

that reaped of ash, bad meat,

1:34:50

and roadkill. Noah screamed

1:34:52

and flailed when he tasted it, but when

1:34:55

I pretended it was good, so

1:34:57

delicious. It's healthy. It'll make you

1:34:59

pink and strong, Noah. It'll make mom happy.

1:35:02

He acquiesced. Though he gagged

1:35:04

and choked, he drank it all and didn't

1:35:06

throw it up, Then, momentarily

1:35:09

grateful, the pot was so small. I

1:35:11

took a cleaver and with an earth shattering

1:35:13

scream chopped two of my fingers off.

1:35:16

The pain was awful, almost too

1:35:18

great for me to comprehend, but compared

1:35:20

to the wildfire burning of windy's

1:35:22

eyes, it was nothing. My

1:35:25

head was clear as I bandage the stumps,

1:35:27

then proceeded to make a stew of myself.

1:35:30

I made Noah drink half, He

1:35:32

ate it gratefully. I suppose because

1:35:34

it was far less disgusting than Windy

1:35:36

Stoo, then carried the remainder

1:35:39

to my mother's room. I had no

1:35:41

idea how to make her read it. I'd

1:35:43

have to force her. She'd think I was

1:35:45

insane. She'd think I hated her.

1:35:47

But that was alright. Because even

1:35:50

though she didn't know it, this would save her.

1:35:52

This would finally be enough. She

1:35:55

would have her eternity of crows and

1:35:57

bats of battling monsters and

1:35:59

befriending feral cats, she

1:36:01

would protect my brother until the end of

1:36:03

time. I pushed open her

1:36:05

door, OTER erupted like a jack

1:36:07

in the box, bile and blood,

1:36:09

vomit and urine and feces. I

1:36:12

set the bowl on the floor and tried to shake

1:36:14

her awake, She was thin,

1:36:16

a fresh covered skeleton with bones

1:36:18

as fine as bat wings and cold,

1:36:21

as cold as windy was warm. The

1:36:24

room tilted Sun might bled