You're Back

by Jenny Morelli

     I feel you before I see you.
     You approach with great caution. Curl your fingers around the rusted chain link fence like you did back then. Your feet crunch loose gravel. Fingers run along the jangly fence like a xylophone until finally, you pause.
     You pause because you feel me.
     You pause because you remember.
     You straighten your back when I heave. Dried leaves rustle into a frenzy with my wind whispers. I remember, too.
     You shrug off the breeze.
     You’re the one who did this! I gust.
     You gasp, eyes wide. Skittering twigs circle, bite your ankles. Bare tree branches click-clack. Come closer.
     Come closer...
     Your feet heed my call. You shake your head. Squeeze your eyes closed. Dig your heels into mud as I pull and pull and pull you toward the murky-watered pit.
     Come to me, I moan in the stiff breeze.
     You dig and claw and crawl away.
     Do you remember yet? It was you and your friends. Three clueless kids with formidable imaginations. Your shadows long like capes.
     Like witches’ cloaks.
     You clutch your head as lightning bolt memories pierce your temples.
     You studied the pit. Pointed. Named what bobbed within. Twisted tricycle. Filthy sneakers. Tattered doll missing an eye.
     You told stories. Giggled through your ghastly games. Turned serious when blades drew blood and sisterhood was sworn; declared this trench the Blood Bath.
     Then crows came and cawed their cautions.
     You left. Moved on. Forgot.
     But now, you’re all back, as if you felt my pull in your endless, relentless nightmares.
     You shiver. Search for the others. A pine breeze prickles goosebumps on your arms, snakes its scent into your nostrils as shadows writhe in the descending dusk.
     You left, I groan. You left, and I’ve been wanting and wishing and waiting.
     You fall to your knees on the edge of this quagmire, on the edge of sanity, as I churn in my liquid grave.
     You beg forgiveness. Tears carve down your cheeks as you sob your sorries.
     I climb and claw from the muddy maw. Emerge soaked and moldy, decrepit, corroded. I right myself. Pedal my trike. Clink my bent bike bell and giggle merrily.
     You flinch. Kick sticks and leaves and muck to retreat, but it’s too late.
     My pull is too strong. I pedal around you once, twice, thrice as shadows advance. My shoelaces trail crazy-eights, weaving around your wrists, your ankles.
     We pull you. Squelch.
     We drag you. Squish.
     Bell clinks as I tug your tied limbs into my boggy bath.
     You scrape through squidgy swamp, but I’m stronger than you.
     I’m stronger because you remember.
     I’m stronger because you believe.
     I’m stronger because I know what you did.
     I’m stronger because you’re the last, and now you’re back.
     Stay, sigh your silhouetted sisters.
     Stay, I sing, as you sink below the surface.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Jenny Morelli is a NJ high school English teacher who lives with her husband, cat, and myriad yard pets. She seeks inspiration in everything and loves to spin fantastically weird tales. She’s published in several print and online literary magazines including Spillwords, Red Rose Thorns, Scars tv, Bottlecap Press and Bookleaf Press for four poetry chapbooks. Website: JennyMorelliWrites.com