The secretary held it in her hands for a long while.
Soft. Stained. Plaid. Torn. The counselor gave it to her. She was told to keep it safe.
Ironic, to keep the skirt safe.
The contents of the skirt, she thought. We should keep that safe, too.
The person within. The child who wore.
But this was evidence, and was worth a great deal.
She sealed it in a bag. She put it in a closet. She waited for direction.
In the hallway, girls traipsed and rhymed, and sang in couplets.
She had no safe place for them.
Horrorshow over 4 years ago
Dark stuff, Ceil. Very well written.
Brandon Sutton over 4 years ago
Almost reads like a poem. A disturbing poem, but a poem nonetheless. Good work!
Ceil Kessler over 4 years ago
Thanks! Dark / disturbing is kind of my milieu right now, so those are great compliments!
Chris Walker over 4 years ago
Neil Ross over 4 years ago
I like your metaphor for the child hidden. Very well laid out, reads well.
John Moralee over 4 years ago
Good story. Punchy end.
Thomas Andersen almost 4 years ago
Like it very much!
Iarwain Olofsson about 3 years ago
Whoo. Tense and thrilling in all its shortness.