A Message

Just as it was that day,

Enrich your mind, your essence,

Search for the true peace he sought,

Understanding his soul is limitless,

Saving a place inside himself for us all.

Be not afraid to cry for help.

Listen for the word to touch you,

Envision what awaits your future,

Driving forces will carry you.

Forgetting not that single day,

Often memories filled with both pain and tears,

Relinquish your spirit to his memory.

He gave his life for an uncertain future,

Unfailing in his strength he died for us,

Mankind speaks of him in many tongues, many ways,

A reverence unlike no other man in history,

Notwithstanding, his return will be glorious,

Infuse your thoughts, faith, passions of the moment,

Therefore, by faith, belief, trust in the Word,

Yearn deeply for a return with a glorious evermore.

Treasures in the Desert 8

The next morning they went into town to the market place and saw a feast of colors. There were many things to purchase.

Dora said in amazement: it is a "Multicolor party". There were beautiful handcrafted jars, hats and white blouses embroidered with colorful designs.

In the municipal market they all enjoyed a rich "bishop" taco, a typical dish of this place,with the "special" preparation that including pine nuts,raisins, and almonds with a sweeter taste. Then they all went to buy rebozos from the artisans of Tenancingo who do a great job!

Pedro took them down an alley and opened a old shabby looking wooden gate. Inside was not at all shabby. There was a beautifully manicured lawn. Gorgeous trees and flowers. Fountains and statues and a wide path leading up to an enormous home three stories high.

The dogs came out barking at first but when they saw Pedro they came wagging their tails.

“Pedro, welcome you and guests”. Said an older gentleman slowly walking down the path.

“Senior Carlos my friend. I brought some people from the United States to see you”. Responded Pedro.

The whole crew were introduced.

Senior Carlos invited them up to the house to meet his wife Lucille. They chatted for a while then Lucille called the maid to bring drinks and little pastries.

Dora explained how she had tripped over the satchel in the desert and found the letter. She even produced the letter saying her original thought was to give it to the rightful owner and the rest of the contents of the satchel but she searched and could find nothing.

“Then I met Bela and her friends and we all put our heads together and we found you”. Replied Dora.

“Dr Bird Craine would have loved to hear this story”. laughed Senior Carlos.

“I don't understand why you call him by that name”. Said Dora.

Senior Carlos told the crew the night Dr Jess was in the desert hunting for his satchel. There were some Mexican bandits out there whooping it up and drinking. When they saw him they started firing shots. He ducked behind a watering trough but they continued to shoot at him.There were cowhands out there checking on their range cattle and one of the bullets almost winged one of them. They went after the bandits and Dr Jess found his bag and finally caught up with MaMa and I. We made it back here to this property.

Dr Jess said he had another bag in the desert with this letter you just showed me. The bag he brought that night had five million dollars American. He bought this property and had this house built. The bottom story was designed as a small hospital and the middle floor was set up with treatment rooms and beds. He lived on the top floor and treated the poor for free.

My wife and I came to live with him. I was caretaker and she was cook. He did not want anyone to find him for some reason or other...he never told me the reason. I told him he was a Bird Brain because he was always losing things so that is how he got that nickname.

In his later years he found out that his wife and her two children and the man that fathered them were killed in a plane crash. He told me whoever found that satchel in the desert was welcome to keep it and the two million dollars as he had no relatives at all living.

When he passed away my wife and I were given this home and his monies. Dora told him what she had found in the satchel.

“Well my dear lady you had better go back home and open those other packages. You will be in for a great surprise”. Said Carlos.

When the friends returned home they went to Dora's home and she opened the packages and there was the two million cash.

“What are you going to do with this cash”? Asked Bela.

“I am going to take it to my safe deposit box and use it for emergency cash”. Said Dora

Everyone looked at her as though she were a bit balmy. She explained my parents were quite wealthy and when they died I was the soul survivor and as you see I am a bit frugal and I do not have a paying job but I am quite well off.

I see that the “Old Folks Home”as Bela calls it is up for sale at a great price so I will purchase it with a bit of moderations.

“moderations”? Asked Will.

“Yes I will have a small house built on the property for myself and a large tall fence made of wrought iron all around so that people that wander will be secure but also free to go about the grounds in safety.

I will be able to live near you all and we will go on trips once a year. I do love you very much. You are all my friends.

The End.

©Julia A Knaake

So far... so clear...

Tonight’s skies, I mean. It’s clear... dry, crisp air. The yard, it’s ablaze with moon light - a cup of tea would be a great right now, or the smell of a single malt scotch.

The moon up there, the stars - so far away, the size of them (shaking my head). Earth is so small by comparison, like a speck of sand in the ocean.

I find that when I’m in need of getting my feet back on the ground, it’s helpful to look up. The sheer scale of the universe we know has a certain draw that can pull life back into prospective.

“Perhaps I reacted hastily”, “What’s really important here, my ego or considering ‘their’ point of view?” “I just snapped, and the cost was was than expected”.

It like holding a rock up to my eye, it’s huge, and I can’t see anything else. But if I sit that rock down, and the rest of my life comes back into view - the rock isn’t so big after all.

...but uh, what do I know ;)

It appeared again, my shadow in the fog.

This figure has been haunting me for months, trailing me through alleyways and clinging to the rear of my father’s carriage on our morning rides into the city. The heavier the rain, the more inclined it feels to join me in my errands. I can see it better in the rain—the glittering downpours of fitful drops fail to conceal it, carving rigid outlines of a mortal form midst a tempest’s rage. I’ve found that it can only reveal itself through silhouettes. On a bright summer day, it’s invisible but I can still feel its presence. A tug on my bustle, a cool tap on my cheek. Being imaginatively naive and accustomed to the presence of my disembodied admirer, I entertained a childish fancy that each frigid tap was an otherworldly kiss.

It started with the fog. A distant traveler pitch black, vague and shifting in the Tunbridge mist. Mistaken for a trespasser, my father fired his rifle four times simply to ease my fear and quell my sobbing. Each bullet was devoured in white like a flock of swallows soaring steadfast into the thick of a blizzard. Though the figure had fled, my crying didn’t cease. “It won’t work, father,” I sputtered, drying my eyes on the sleeve of my coat. “It’s a ghost!”

My father lowered his rifle, warm barrel piercing the damp, swollen earth. He smoothed a gloved hand over my sandy brown hair and smiled. “There are no ghosts in Tunbridge, Ella.”

~*~

Nobody else could see it. I’d come to realize this rather quickly.

My father thought I was just imagining things, nothing unusual for a child. My sister, Ana, was far less amused and accepting of my visions. Surpassing my age by a mere two years, she was shockingly cynical for a thirteen-year old girl. While I was content in the bliss of my buoyant fantasies, Ana resided outside this realm of impossible things and dreams. She always had a brilliant mind, conquering her peers in both academics and common sense. Father worried she was growing up too fast but it never stopped him from admiring her achievements. Ana made her first list of potential post-graduate academies before her second year of primary school. Her goal was to join the field of law and become a practiced investigator—a goal driven by the loss of our mother three years ago, after her peculiar and unsolved disappearance.

Despite the drive behind her aspirations, Ana hated talking about mother. The faintest reminder sent her mood plummeting in a toxic spiral of resentment and sorrow. She would always say that it never does well to dwell in the past, but I knew she lingered there more often than she cared to admit.

I tried to tell her about the shadow, how it followed me from place to place meddling with my everyday life, not inconveniently so, but enough to be noticeable. She rolled her eyes, scoffed.

“Bullocks, Ella. You spend far too much time with your nose buried in mum’s old storybooks. They’re filling your head with nonsense!”

I clutched the edges of the book I’d been reading: Star Sea, a story about an ocean prince who falls in love with the sky. Mother's favorite and a widely unpopular title, as were most of the tales in her collection. She enjoyed finding her favored storytellers in various unexplored corners of London, a sort of scavenger hunt for pages of magic unseen and overlooked. The best stories are the ones yet to be appreciated, she'd say.

“Because only a nonsensical mind can appreciate them,” I whispered, finishing her words.

“What are you on about?” Ana inquired, losing interest in any answer I could have given immediately after. She drew a long breath, deep enough that I feared she might exhale fire, but she only sighed. “Sometimes you drive me mad with your stories, Ella. Sometimes I wish you would just grow up.”

Her own book, a hefty novel of true crime written by an author I’d never heard of, was plucked from her writing desk in one swift and clearly irritated motion. Ana left me sitting in solitude, her words repeating in my mind. Sometimes, I wish you would just grow up.

I turned the page of our mother’s storybook and kept reading.

~*~

Wind churned the sea’s waves in a volatile harmony that no mortal instrument could dare to rival. Each gust caressing the surface, ocean lapping the breeze in salty sweet kisses. The stars wept in tears of silver, the full moon parted its curtain of clouds revealing the grand entirety of its opal brilliance. The prince broke through the rapture of his wild ocean, reaching a glistening hand to the sky and—

“Ella. Ella!”

I lowered my book and stared up at Ana. She had placed a rather gaudy looking hat upon her head, a bright pink sun hat adorned with an enormous bouquet of peacock feathers neatly tucked beneath a thick yellow ribbon. Her face, a twisted expression of musing and uncertainty, was searching the stillness of my own for an opinion.

“What do you think?” Ana asked. “Honestly.”

I pretended to give the garish accessory a second glance over. “Honestly? You look like a tart.”

Ana took off the hat and nodded. “Fair enough. If only mother were here… she’d know what to do.”

While Ana tossed the horrid hat aside and began rummaging through various drawers, chests and racks, I closed my book and surveyed the room. Tilly’s Hattery had always been a quaint, stuffy little shop but it seemed far more disorganized than I remembered. Mother fancied this hattery above all others. She spent hours perusing its unique inventory of flowery brims, silk-swathed bonnets, swallow nested promenades and jeweled theater capotes. Unlike most men in Tunbridge, father encouraged her obsession. Each time she would come home with a new hat, he would fawn over her beauty and insist they go out to show it off. They would return from their nightly adventures, mother on father’s arm with a bouquet of roses and father tipsy, beaming with the memories of envious stares.

Mother truly was a vision. I saw a lot of her in Ana. They shared the same fiery mane of a red fox. Ana even had mother’s infamous streaks and patches of thick ivory waves crashing against freckled cheeks, falling like a snow and crimson curtain over a pair of large, doe-like eyes. It seemed the only trait Ana didn’t inherit from mother was a sense of fashion; particularly in the category of hats.

Ana ceased her rummaging and groaned. “What does a lady even wear to an academic soiree? Is a hat really necessary?”

“As long as it doesn’t make you look like a tart,” I teased.

“Half of these hats are the visual definition of a harlot, and the other half an old, withering French bird,” said Ana. “I want to look professional, not like a freak show.”

I looked around at the towering selection. Hats seemed to be growing from the walls like a fungus, leaning out of shadowed corners in colorful pillars. From what I could see, there were plenty of plain, normal hats sandwiched between their vibrant counterparts. Ana’s problem was that she was instinctively, and understandably, attracted to flamboyance. The more extravagant the hat, the better it seemed… until it was placed on one’s head.

A battered mirror hiding in the dusty nook of the disheveled hattery caught my eye with a curious glint. I found it odd that I had only noticed it now, its surface gleaming from the pastel light of a solitary window. A strange feeling washed over me, a mix of potent emotions. Thick with secrecy, heavily riddled in caution and wonder. The longer I stared, the more nauseated I felt. I tore my eyes away. They wandered to a carriage hat of navy blue hugging a corner of the mirror’s frame, free of any bits, bobbles, and feathery plumes. It had only a black ribbon tied around the base, its lace-trimmed ends like two ebony waterfalls cascading over the brim.

“What about that one?” I said, pointing at my refreshingly ordinary discovery.

Ana turned, followed the direction of my finger. She wasn’t impressed. “That? But it’s so… boring.”

“Just try it,” I insisted. “Boring is better than a harlot or a withering French bird.”

Ana had no argument prepared. She walked over to the hat, touched its brim and retreated her hand with a yelp.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, brows knit in confusion.

“It shocked me!”

“Maybe it’s magic”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe it’s science, Ella.” She plucked the hat from the mirror and shoved it on her head. “Well?”

“It’s perfect.”

Finally, my sister had chosen something that wouldn’t blind an entire room of people, or at least give them frilly nightmares for a week. Ana grinned and spun around in the peculiar mirror.

I stared at her reflection. My heart skipped, the color drained from my face. My fingers felt like icicles. A reflection in the mirror—not mine, not Ana’s. It was the shadow. As usual, it was right next to me. I watched it sway and contort in the light, like little dark ripples in the dust filled air. It seemed to be focused on Ana, who saw only her own image posing, laughing, dancing around. I looked to my side and saw nothing. I looked back at the mirror… nothing. The shadow had ran away, as it always does. I remained entranced by the empty space it left beside me, staring ahead, unblinking. Ana stopped dancing, turned around.

“Ella?”

After a short delay, I looked up. “Hm?”

“Let’s go find Tilly,” she said, her voice triumphant. “I want this hat.”

We headed to the shop front. I didn’t mention the shadow, saving myself a headache from one of Ana’s many lectures on reality. She paid for her hat with a sum of old birthday money from father and we went home, leaving behind the nauseating mirror and my one of many encounters with the shadow.

~*~

For the following days, I kept thinking about the hattery. Even Ana was raving about it. After her soiree, she’d received so many compliments and inquiries about her new hat that she proudly advertised Tilly’s Hattery—a gem in the rough of Tunbridge, as she described it. Tilly’s Hattery consumed my mind for very different reasons, however. I thought about the mirror, the horrible feeling it gave me. There was something awfully disturbing about it, despite its bright appearance. I thought about the shadow, how it ignored me for my sister as if it felt uneasy about her being so close to the mirror. Even curiouser, I wanted to go back.

The mirror had reminded me of mother and I wondered how many times she’d stood before it, admiring her reflection adorned in the endless crowns of her beloved hattery. I neglected to tell Ana about my plan to return. I wanted to go alone, to see if mother’s presence still lingered there. I would walk to town first thing in the morning.

If I could find even the smallest clue about mother’s disappearance, maybe we could find her.

Ana, father and I, together.

(TBC)

Cover Art: “The Hat Shop” by Henry Tonks

The sun sets over the train station and blinds me with light, amber and gold. I see the fence of the bridge, the landing of the stairs.

I see the woman running.

The most amazing woman in the world. She breathes, and I am breathless; she effortlessly changes my life. Just now she runs to catch her train. She makes all struggles appear surmountable.

The train is ready to depart. I am running too, but she is fast. She must be, to seize her opportunity; so much faster than me.

The most amazing woman in the world, with whom I have fallen madly in love, she disappears to somewhere I cannot follow, and I am too late, or too slow, or too weighed down to be any rightful sort of accompaniment to her.

In a flash, the sunset dims, and she is gone, and all my memories of her are as vivid, and brief, and as fading as a photograph.

That freedom for which I love her is the very thing by which she breaks my heart.

Arianna, her brother, and the other boy (who happens to be her cousin, which explains the red hair) were the last ones off the bus, just like me.

“Who’s your homeroom teacher?” I asked.

“Miss Griswald,” she said. “I don’t think we’re in the same one.”

I shook my head. “No, we’re not.”

“I saw you in math, though.”

Am I that noticeable or was she looking for me?

“See you ’round,” she said, interrupting my musings.

“Mmm, okay,” I grunt.

I didn’t see her again until math, but due to the assigned seating, we couldn’t talk. That was fine with me. When math was done, I hurried to my locker to grab the lunch that Kara had made for me.

I was so intent on observing the people around me that I didn’t catch the one right in front of me.

“Watch it,” the boy growled, shoving past me.

I took him in a quick glance--ripped jeans, maroon hoodie, and Nike high-top sneakers. If you were to see him, you probably wouldn’t do a double take (unless you were a girl, because he was kinda a looker.) But then again, you probably aren’t an anomaly with heightened senses. Of all the telepathic/enhanced abilities one could have, I have one of the worsts--heightened sense of smell. (Yeah, I tend to avoid public restrooms due to that one.)

Anyway...He was gone down the hall, and I kept walking to my locker. I’d just reached it when the vision came on.

Oh, yeah, I should explain that one, too. I’m a Forerunner--my subconscious is so developed, it picks up little things around me, piecing it together to form an almost exact vision of the future. It’s never been anything big, just little things moments before they happen.

Feeling nauseous when it was over--which is pretty normal--I leaned against my locker. I drew in several shaky breaths, inwardly grimacing at the curious glances and whispers around me.

That boy is gonna be in some serious trouble, I thought, slamming my locker shut a little too hard.

“Hey, Dani!” It was Arianna. I gotta say, that girl had some awful timing.

I had a split-second to make a decision. I didn’t hesitate as I turned my back and hurried after the boy.

“Dani!” I knew without looking that heads had turned in her direction, but no one really knew who I was.

Moving through the crowd virtually unhindered, I headed towards a deserted hallway. It was the same one I’d seen in a my vision, and, sure enough, the boy was there. Another kid, maybe thirteen at the oldest, met him.

I ducked out of sight as they looked around quickly before quickly exchanging money and a small ziploc bag containing the drugs I'd smelled. I risked taking a peek, and saw the younger boy take off.

Having seen all that I needed to see, I took off back the way I’d come. I stopped close the cafeteria and waited. Ten minutes later, I heard footsteps. Knowing this was the boy, I walked towards the bend in the hallway.

I ran into him for the second time that day.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammered out an apology.

“Watch it, nerd,” he snapped, shoving past me.

I kept walking until I reached my locker. I made sure the hallway was empty before taking out the Ziploc baggy I’d just lifted from his hip pocket. Who knew why he hadn’t put it some place more secure, but it wasn’t like I was going to go ask him.

Shoving the little bag into my smelly gym clothes (which I’d forgotten to take home and get washed), I whispered, “You can thank me later, buddy.”

If ART wanted me here for the drug deals...I had a good head start. Of course, since no one, not even Kara, knew what I was here for, I’d probably have to do some digging.

Good thing I know how to hack...

"Where were you?" Arianna demanded as we headed to our next class after lunch.

"Sorry, I had to deal with something." And, just as I'd been taught, I looked her in the eyes.

Free tip--when you're lying, always always look the person you're lying to in the eye.

Those brilliant green eyes held my own for several heartbeats before she looked away. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"Nah, that's okay." I smiled.

"Ax!"she called out.

"Ari, I'm right here," her brother said from behind her.

"Oh." Arianna reddened. "Didn't see you there."

Ax (which is short for the hideous name of Axton) checked his watch. "Look, I gotta run. I have to meet up with one of my buddies before my next class."

"Okay, but I need my pen back." She held her hand out, and Ax returned the pen before running of.

Because I was watching Ax jog off down the hall, I didn't catch what Arianna was saying. Well, until she snapped her fingers in my face.

"Yo, earth to Dani! You seriously zoned out on my brother?!" Thankfully, she was whispering, so the entire school didn't hear it. "Do you think he's cute?"

"He's seems nice," I said vaguely.

Although I had initially just given him a lingering glance as he made his exit, that wasn't the reason he had maintained my interest. I couldn't be sure, I was pretty sure I'd seen a guy wearing a maroon hoody, ripped jeans, and hightop sneakers waiting at the end of the hallway.

Maybe not for Ax, and if he was, maybe not even for drugs.

But I couldn't be sure.

"Uh huh," she rolled her eyes. "Just nice? Nothing else?"

I grinned. "No, not my type anyway."

"Oh, please." Cue another eye roll.

I just ignored her.

Please do not think that the world revolves around you. It does not.

Please do not think that we all want to hear. Maybe the noise hurts us.

Please do not act like we very much care. We all have different interests.

Please do not tell lies to my face. Especially if I know they’re not true.

Please do not make jokes about things that are not a joking matter.

Please do not be mean.

Please do not be catty.

Please do not make snarky comments.

Please do not look at me as if I am not human, even if that is what you think.

Please do not think you should not stop doing your crimes.

Please do not laugh when I expirience pain, it makes it worse.

Please do not put on a mask, if I know your true identity.

Please do call me awful names, when you know I hate it.

Please do not look me in the eyes and tell me it is not you doing these things...

you never know do you.

I cry for every soul that is forlorn in this world that is fading. My soul is like glass shards barely put together. It cracks with every painful memory and thought. It cracks at the thoughts about sorrowful beings. I think about them, and about the life they are having. The life we are having. What life is that !? Nomatter how hard I try to find a solution, there seems to be none. I break all over when at the end, I end up believing this is the life we are meant to have.

So I can't put the pieces together. I can't glue the shards.

They fall like tears.

If you ever wanted to see a movie featuring the Iron Giant, DC superheroes, Street Fighter, Battletoads, Master Chief and Halo, Chucky, the Delorean from Back to the Future, King Kong, the T-Rex from Jurassic Park, Tracer from Overwatch, Starcraft, Gundam, and MechaGodzilla; you’re wish is granted.

Ready Player One is the newest film by all-time greatest film director Steven Spielberg, based off the novel of the same name by Ernest Cline. What’s it about? Much like the book, it’s pretty much pop culture the movie.

The actual story is that in the future a virtual reality game called the OASIS, created by a brilliant but reclusive game designer named James Halliday (played by Mark Rylance), is the single biggest hit and most played game of all time. You can do anything and be whoever you want to be in this virtual world. After James Halliday passed away, he created a challenge for all the players that will grant them control over his video game. The hunt is on, and one of these players named Wade Watts (played by Tye Sheridan) is determined to find all the clues before a corrupt business official (played by Ben Mendelsohn) does.

This movie was an absolute blast to watch. It may be because of the nostalgia goggles I have on, or that I’ve recognized over a hundred different references so far while watching the movie. Either way, I had fun.

First of all this was just one gorgeous looking movie with all the CGI. If you’ve read the book, you know that there would have to be a ton of CGI everywhere in the OASIS, and Steven Spielberg is the only director that can make it all artistic. Everything brought to life in the OASIS looked so fantastic.

The acting was good here too. I think Spielberg knows just the right people for the roles of his film. Everybody does a good job. Even the villain was great. I think Ben Mendelsohn plays douchebag characters perfectly. He was one in the Dark Knight Rises and Rogue One, and he was just great in this film too.

I also like how the soundtrack to this movie had an 80s vibe to it. Tons of classic songs like Van Halen’s Jump and Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It. I wonder it’s available in stores yet. I would listen the shit out of it.

Also, gotta mention the awesome amount of pop culture references and easter eggs scattered throughout the whole movie. I giggled with pure fanboyisms every time I recognized something or someone I knew from different media, and I loved seeing it all come together on the big screen. Seeing that huge fight towards the end is well worth the price of admission.

I will say this however: one of the big takeaways, if you’ve read the book, is how the film greatly differs from its source. I won’t get into specific details since it will spoil both the book and movie. But if you have read it before, you’ll definitely notice the big changes. What they did was they basically Jurassic Parked it, meaning that the mains story and plot details are still present but do not happen quite the same context as the source material. And as the late author Michael Crichton co-wrote the film version of Jurassic Park, author Ernest Cline co-wrote the screenplay to this film.

But that’s the thing, I already expected something like this from Steven Spielberg. I’ve read both novelizations of Jaws and Jurassic Park, and both films heavily differed from their sources too. Yet they’re still critically praised films because of how they differed. While I kinda smirked every time something happened in the film that wasn’t present in the book, it never really bothered me because the film was too enjoyable to knit-pick all the details.

You’re not going to see this movie to see how well it adapts from the book. You’re going to see it for the nostalgia sense and the spectical awe that director Steven Spielberg can provide. I really loved watching this movie, and I’ll probably watch it again and again for the nostalgia and pop culture blast. If you’re a purist who has read the novel and is hoping it’ll be properly be adapted, you’re gonna walk out disappointed. But if you’re looking for a fun movie to count the number of cameos and references, this is definitely you’re film. It’s something for fanboys and girls of all spectrums.

Positives:

-References and Easter eggs

-Outstanding special effects

-Good solid acting

-80s Soundtrack

-Spielberg’s direction

-Nostalgia fest

Negatives:

-Greatly differs from book

Final Grade: A-

I also highly recommend reading the book by Ernest Cline too. It’s a really good read. With the new ads on Prose now I saw one for Audible. If I can make a suggestion, check out audible.com sometime and look up a copy of this book. It’s narrated by Wil Wheaton of Star Trek fame.

So there’s my thoughts on Ready Player One. Have you seen it? What were your thoughts? And if you’ve seen it, how many references did you catch? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check out more reviews here on my page or in the Review Portal, here at Prose.com!

Best Quote:

James Halliday: “The best thing about reality is it’s real.”

#harrysituationreviews #film #opinion #scifi #videogame #virtualreality #nostalgia #popculture #AGrade

You are watching from your window, peering thru the slats of your blinds, you don’t like to appear nosy. She is in the neighbor’s yard, just spinning around. Looking up at the sun and spinning, arms raised upwards. She looks joyous.

“Who’s that little girl, have you seen her before?” you ask yourself, just curious, you don’t think they have kids.

She looks so thin, frail almost, her clothes are filthy, hair unkempt. From the doorway, the neighbors rush out and start shaking her. The man drags her to the house, the woman looks around.

You reach for the phone.