The air felt cold and smelled of rain, a slight breeze pushed against him. He wanted to laugh at himself, having come out here to think and possibly clear his head, yet the only thing on his mind was that he should have brought a jacket with him. His head fell down and he could feel his entire body pause for a moment when his gaze landed on what was in the stream in front of him. A small salamander -well he’s pretty sure that’s what it was- laid face down in the shallows, rocking slightly back and forth from the pull of the stream. So slight he wouldn’t really have noticed had he not been staring at it so intensely.

The reason his throat began getting tight he didn’t really know. Or, he did, he just didn’t want to think about it that clearly. So he let himself cry for the small dead creature, ignoring what it represented in the back of his mind. Let himself sit on the wet ground in a sloppy fashion, all the while continuously staring at it..

With shaking hands -when did he start shaking?- he picked up the salamander and set it next to him amongst the tall grass before shoveling into the dirt with his hands. The feeling of small rocks getting stuck under his nails grated against his nerves and sent chills down his back, but he still dug until the hole was deep enough.

“There you go, little guy,” he whispered putting the salamander inside. “Or girl, I really don’t know,” he half laughed. Covering the hole as best he could, he tried to pin down what he felt - sadness but a strange calm as well?

He sat there for a long moment, just staring, getting lost thinking about nothing in particular. The water was ice cold, as he knew it would be, but he washed the dirt off his hands the best he could before his fingers grew numb, cupped some water in his hands and let it slide down his face and onto his neck.

What felt like needles stabbed at his asleep from sitting too long foot as he stood up. His hands were cold, his face like ice as the wind picked up even more, telling him to get back inside before it rained. The needles died down as he walked back up the trail, as did his thoughts on the dead salamander buried in the creek.

Numb. Everything is numb. Hands and feet so cold they could barely move. The nights were getting colder, that's for damn sure. Leaves she pretends are as soft as cotton shift beneath her in the breeze. It isn't hard to pretend anymore. Had she ever felt something so soft? No, certainly not. The idea itself made her laugh. The twigs and dirt were her velvet's and satin's.

Another sharp gust of wind brings a slight smile to her cheeks. To her, it is just the world's way of telling her to wake. Pushing herself up, she shoves her hands in her pockets, rubbing her fingers on the soft paper that was buried there.

A dark sky rumbles overhead, and she hums along, the smell of an oncoming rain filling her lungs. Each step she takes proceeds to slowly wake her toes up, spreading that annoying tingly feeling that made her nose wrinkle.

Light touches her eyes and she stops, gazing at the warm sight of coffee grounds. The paper in her pocket now feels heavy, so she nods and pushes the door open. The scent overwhelms her, nearly knocking her over. She gets strange looks, but she just smiles as she approaches the counter.

"Small and black please," she says, setting the green paper from her fingers in front of the barista. A half smirk, some punches in the register and the money is dropped in the drawer.

An old man with a scowl sits in the corner, reading. She wondered, was it the book that deformed his face? Or perhaps something else? Maybe he's annoyed at being at a coffee shop this early, and would much rather be at home.

"Your coffee miss,"

She spins around and quickly grabs the drink. Her excitement overtakes her rationality and the hot black liquid slides down her throat. Her face instantly pinches, causing the old man to snicker.

It takes her a moment but when she realizes, her stomach warms. Her pinched face now matches the old man's scowl.

It's strange, but it pleased her so much to have the connection that she kept the expression as she left, back into the comforts of her cold world.

The first thing I notice is the rotten smell. Putrid by all definition of the word, seeping through the roof of my mouth and absorbing on my tongue. Wanting to cough, but not quite finding the strength to do so, my body quivers. Struggling to open my eyes, I’m met with a blur of shapes, and I deduct that I’m laying on the kitchen floor; the chill of the tile becoming buried in my bones.

“It’s all going to be okay baby, momma’s making dinner” A melodic voice echoes in my ears, causing me to look up- or try to -in the direction it had come from.

What is a normal sentence to most, makes my insides double over. She hums a syrupy sweet song that resonates with me like liquid medicine. You know the one they tell you tastes like cherries but goes down in a horrible make you want to vomit, kind of way that tells you, you’ve been tricked.

Grasping at the empty contents of my stomach, my dry mouth opens.

“Mm..” scratches out of my throat, leaving a painful sting.

“Shhhhh, baby, it’s nearly ready”

Fingers twitch forward, finding themselves covered in a wet something I know the name of, but my mind drifts. The pins and needle sensation itching under my skin makes it hard to focus on anything else.

Hearing the sticky footsteps paired with the growing humming, I try to will myself up, but cold hands grasp at my head and gently lifted it. Eyes closed, I gulp down whatever it is that she’s feeding me, starting to chew on a chunk of something, with only one thought on my aching brain.

Where’s dad?

The first thing I notice is the rotten smell. Putrid by all definition of the word, seeping through the roof of my mouth and absorbing on my tongue. Wanting to cough, but not quite finding the strength to do so, my body quivers. Struggling to open my eyes, I’m met with a blur of shapes, and I deduct that I’m laying on the kitchen floor; the chill of the tile becoming buried in my bones.

“It’s all going to be okay baby, momma’s making dinner” A melodic voice echoes in my ears, causing me to look up- or try to -in the direction it had come from.

What is a normal sentence to most, makes my insides double over. She hums a syrupy sweet song that resonates with me like liquid medicine. You know the one they tell you tastes like cherries but goes down in a horrible make you want to vomit, kind of way that tells you, you’ve been tricked.

Grasping at the empty contents of my stomach, my dry mouth opens.

“Mm..” scratches out of my throat, leaving a painful sting.

“Shhhhh, baby, it’s nearly ready”

Fingers twitch forward, finding themselves covered in a wet something I know the name of, but my mind drifts. The pins and needle sensation itching under my skin makes it hard to focus on anything else.

Hearing the sticky footsteps paired with the growing humming, I try to will myself up, but cold hands grasp at my head and gently lifted it. Eyes closed, I gulp down whatever it is that she’s feeding me, starting to chew on a chunk of something, with only one thought on my aching brain.

Where’s dad?

His thoughts were no longer his. It's claws dug deep into his soul until he felt a numbness start to spread. It's lips weren't moving but it was speaking clearly, and before he had time to even think about being afraid, it flipped the switch and he was theirs. All it had to do now was tug at the strings and he would obey. A dull whisper echoed and he understood what it needed perfectly. He wasn't happy, he wasn't sad, or angry. He just, was.

Muscles that once held a throbbing burn, took no mind to any pain and were moving towards the town, knowing which steps to take, where to turn. He didn't have to think. Peering into the window of a small house, it's eyes bore through his and saw, sitting on the floor, a young girl with frayed hair and dirt covered skin, who seemed to instantly know he was there. Not frightened, but entranced. She stared so intently at him she was looking right through him. Moving in silence, tiny feet made their way outside and followed him out of town, back to the woods. The only sound was their shallow breaths and snapping of the occasional twig.

A chill neither of them could truely feel struck the marrow of their bones, and it emerged onto the path and he stopped, watching as the figure moved towards the little girl. It's nails gripped onto her shoulders so tightly he could see the knuckles whitening. A pale smoke slowly rose out of the child's eyes and fell upon it's face. The more smoke fell, the more the knuckles relaxed and the shoulders drooped. Finally, it let go and the girl hit the ground. Now just an empty shell. If he had the mind to notice, he would have coughed at the distinct smell of death that now pooled around them.

It didn't look at him as it disappeared back into hiding. Didn't need to. His legs were already moving back into town.

A claw dug into her throat, desperate to climb out and destroy her. Forcing a swallow, she willed it down into the depths of her stomach where she could keep it hidden. At least for now.

It was only a small lie. Small lies are okay, she told herself. The minuscule fact that the claw would grow, sharpen itself on her bones, and become buried in the marrow was seemingly easy to ignore. It’s just a small lie, she told herself.