Tell Me.

Tell me how to quieten my mind without emptying my body,
how to walk through the trees without counting the time,
tell me how to feel like I’m not just so normal
without watching the numbers decrease, yes I’m trying

Tell me how to taste without feeling guilty,
teach me how to feel full without wanting to gag,
pull me to my feet when I fall down on bruised knees,
rub my soul back into my skin, trace lines down my back 

The darkness is calling but the light wants me closer,
though the numbness and bruises are beckoning me home,
I’m nothing without it, I can’t trust the brightness,
it may stay for a while but it always leaves me alone 

Open my mouth and force in seeds full of sunshine,
listen to me whisper, watch blood fall from my lips,
watch me twist, and morph into monsters,
hear me cry over razor-sharp hips

Elusive memories flutter around my eyelids,
fingers dancing across jutting bones,
it’s time to start smiling, a voice breathing gently,
but just as I said, darkness is calling me home. 

Prologue.

The girl carefully picked her way through the trees. All was silent except for the noise of the snow melting; a muffled ‘thump’ as a clump fell from a branch and hit the ground below, the dripping of water as it joined a small pond from the twigs above, and the occasional creaking of branches as they adjusted to the shifting weight. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a sleeveless, pale pink dress that came to just below her knees, and if she was cold, she did not show it. She was extremely slender; fragile-looking, and delicate in her movements. Her dirty blonde hair was tied loosely in a bun, and as she turned her face upwards towards the sky, she showed no expression.
Then, the wind began to blow: gently at first, dancing around her body, whispering words that she couldn’t quite catch. Her head turned swiftly from side to side, trying to understand the warning that the air was bringing her. As it blew faster, she felt the cold whip across her face and through her hair, curling around her, whistling fiercely, until it was a high-pitched screeching. The branches groaned in protest, and the sky darkened. The wind roared in her ears.
Suddenly, it stopped. The sky brightened once again and the trees became silent. As the wind left the woods, winding between the trees, she caught two words: they’re coming.