Mourning the Absent Teddy Bear

The clear morning sky was overtaken by one very large storm cloud. It threatened and grumbled, but never let loose of any rain or real wind. It just hung there in the sky looking grumpy and still. It was a giant bruise adding a beautiful background contrast to the nearly violent green of the summer trees. I ventured out to enjoy the appearance of a storm without the somewhat wet and bothersome benefits of a real one.

As I was walking through the forest behind my house I heard strange giggling. It wasn’t really childlike, but neither did it belong to an adult. There was a metallic quality to it. I pulled back a gnarled juniper tree branch and was greeted by a collection of creatures I’d rather not describe. I had read about these creatures, in fairy tales meant more for adults in need of some type of morality lesson, but the descriptions could have been better as I sat looking at the real thing. One of the strangely hooded creatures, with terribly long horns, held a piece of paper and was reading from it.

Maliciousness and strife,
and all kinds of vice,
that’s what scary little girls are made of.

Dark clouds and thunder
and creeping bed monsters under
that’s what scary little girls are made of.

Dead teddy bear picnics
tainted places and broken doll faces
that’s what scary little girls are made of.

As I watched the other creatures in attendance giggle, that strange sound of theirs collectively echoing around the forest, I decided it was time to go. Artwork by Bethalynne Bajema, three of nine in the collection. Available here.