|Night imps (standard:other, 302 words)|
|Author: Violet||Added: Mar 22 2002||Views/Reads: 1715/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|the faeries have danced here.|
Tiny footprints in the mud. In the morning, I check where i left a dish of honey yesterday. A candel is still illuminating the greenish white underbellis of the cala lillies in the park. Faeries danced here, their tiny feet beating rythms in the hard-packed city park dirt. My glass dish is empty. I live with my mother in a small apartment in the city. Our apartment is in a grimy yellow-bricked apartment building amidst factories and smokestacks and other buildings that have been there longer and are completely caked with dirt and grime, and make your fingers bleed when you drag your hand against them. I like the park. Our apartment is always smelly, like the pickled cabbage that my mother's new boyfriend brought us, that my mother is always eating, now. There are faeries at the park. They always leave their honey foot prints in the earth. They are hiding from civilization in the trees. I've seen them before, too. A long time ago when we lived in LA. I like to build little elf houses. At night I would stay near the window box, listening to my mother snoring, and I would wait for them to come out of the roots. And they did. They knew that I was watching, too. They didn't want to talk to me, though. They just like to sit there and whisper. Night imps. That's what they are called. Colecting my dish of honey, I see someone walking toward me, frowning. The lumy shape is smoking a cigarette and 'tsk'ing. My mother. She never leaves the house, anymore. there you are! She says. I have been looking for you. No eight-year-old girl should be here alone. Without her mother. This is a sign. Faeries have danced here. And my mother is one of them. Tweet
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