Don’t go into the woods

By Ed Wallace

Don’t go into the woods.

Don’t go into the woods.

Don’t
go
into
the
woods.

The words your mother always spoke to you were echoed by your stepmother after her. The wisdom of a thousand wives tales. One would think they would gain reverence from one the stories teach to hate.

Don’t go into the woods.

Yet here you stand, stick in hand. Under the eaves of the wood.

Don’t go into the woods my child, oh never go into the woods. For it won’t be you to come out again, leastwise not alone. A twin you will find in the woods my child, a twin of fruit and bone.

You never believed her, or her, not either her. Not ever. You always liked fruit, and they said that bones were all inside you so could think of nothing to fear. You’d always wanted a twin though. That always sounded nice. A friend to cavort and play.

Don’t go into the woods my child,
or they’ll make you out of clay.


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