They called me Fat Pig on New Year's Eve.
They used knives and tools they shouldn’t have used.
In places they shouldn’t be put.
~
The library gave me silence.
Until a black book showed up on the Christmas cart.
Brides of the Black Solstice.
Grong.
Filthy.
Familiar in the worst way.
I read it once—during the eclipse—
And now Blackwood Falls won’t stop echoing it back.
A night that doesn’t make sense.
A report no one believes.
A list I don’t remember joining.
I want my life back.
But the book wants me written into it.
♥
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