Burned Bones
Where is it?
I saw Bill the next day. Now, people call it today. The present.
Bill sent the voices away. He shooed the fire away from my being.
Like he had promised, we went on our way, looking for Wonderland. Where could it be? Paris? No, we looked there. Japan? No, too many people. If Wonderland were in Japan, someone else would have found it by now.
Bill and I traveled all around the world, living in boxes and with Bill’s relatives. I remember one. Looked like a rabbit, with his mustache and twitchy nose, always running late, he was.
Sometimes, Bill would leave for a little while, buying food or something, and I would be left alone on the swings.
I thought. That was all I could do. If I had gone outside when my aunt told me to, I could have told someone that the younger kids were playing with matches. That when the toast was called, they did not put the matches out, but dropped them on the dead grass outside.
I never told Bill this. I just wanted to forget. But how could I? Every little hallucination of a spark set off a wave of memories. Nightmares. If I tell Bill, the red reaper on my shoulder will yell “Off with her head!” and I shall be headless. I want my head, deformed as it is.
Bill came back. Only one place left to check. Bill’s house. I have to be optimistic. If Wonderland is not here, the red reaper shall yell, “Off with his head!” and Bill shall be headless. I think Bill likes his head, so this better be the place.
Bill sent the voices away. He shooed the fire away from my being.
Like he had promised, we went on our way, looking for Wonderland. Where could it be? Paris? No, we looked there. Japan? No, too many people. If Wonderland were in Japan, someone else would have found it by now.
Bill and I traveled all around the world, living in boxes and with Bill’s relatives. I remember one. Looked like a rabbit, with his mustache and twitchy nose, always running late, he was.
Sometimes, Bill would leave for a little while, buying food or something, and I would be left alone on the swings.
I thought. That was all I could do. If I had gone outside when my aunt told me to, I could have told someone that the younger kids were playing with matches. That when the toast was called, they did not put the matches out, but dropped them on the dead grass outside.
I never told Bill this. I just wanted to forget. But how could I? Every little hallucination of a spark set off a wave of memories. Nightmares. If I tell Bill, the red reaper on my shoulder will yell “Off with her head!” and I shall be headless. I want my head, deformed as it is.
Bill came back. Only one place left to check. Bill’s house. I have to be optimistic. If Wonderland is not here, the red reaper shall yell, “Off with his head!” and Bill shall be headless. I think Bill likes his head, so this better be the place.