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My friend I have been very studious. You think me but a child perhaps but I am older than old. I’ve been watching mommy and daddy at their work. They think I do not see, that I lie quiet in my bed when at the midnight hour they meet the others to dance, to kill, to sing, to do pure magick. They think I sleep oblivious to all. But my friend I heard the call, from the moment I was born. It is what I am.

I have their books. I understand the requirements. I have studied every step. And yes my friend, I’ve practiced so, I’ve killed. Such small creatures that you may pay no mind. Their little lives are better used for my purpose here. Everything has its meaning, even them. Even them.

It will be wonderful, my friend, when you are a thing alive, not stuffing and material. I yearn to hear your voice and to embrace you when you may embrace me back. They gave me toys and thought this was enough. But then, they gave me you, and you will be more, so much more than a toy.

The books tell me I must be strong, my friend. To birth a life from stuff such as you comes at such a price. But then I’ve never thought my father was very nice. I’ve seem what he will do to other children, real children – not hidden adults like me. I think therefore he will do very well.

I’m sending daddy to hell. It’s where he came from and where he belongs. But on his blood tide, my friend, you can rise. And we will laugh and dance upon his grave. And if mother cries we’ll collect her tears in a little jar. I’ll keep it on my shelf so she can see it every day and remember. Remember what I am. Remember what we are.

My friend such fun we’ll have, so soon, so soon. I promise you. So soon.

(c) Helen M Valentina 2017