“Different…,” they’d say. “Just a wee-bit queer…for my like’n.” Then they’d catch me looking at them and their faces would blanch white, as the cotton they were picking.
I enjoy making them uncomfortable. I enjoy hearing the rhythm of their heartbeat quicken. It makes me alive within this skin.
It’s a funny thing to feel so alive when scaring others to death. I almost get giddy with the pleasure. Once I almost smiled but I never let them see me smile.
One day I’ll leave this village, but not until I’m finished with them. I never leave a job undone. I stay until the end…and sometimes it takes oh so long for the end.
The end makes me sad. After the end there is no fear and it’s the fear I miss most. And so I stretch the means to defer the end.
I try to linger as long as possible, but, alas, the end is always inevitable. So when the job is done, I lay them to hell and spill dirt over their faces…and then…then I can smile.
I wonder the woods, for beyond yonder hill, my new family awaits. The cabin is bright and I knock at the door. When it opens they invite me in and my job begins all over again.
Yes, this always remains…
I’m never alone, for this body I possess, will always be my home.
Home is a person. If you’re lucky, home is yourself. __ Duchess Goldblatt
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