Sarah tucked the child in,

Her fingers moving gingerly

Across the thick wool blanket

The child gazed up, dark eyes

Gleaming in the dim light

They asked for a bedtime lullaby,

Voice a mere whisper in the large bedroom

Sarah simply nodded,

Accepting the familiar request

With a slight chuckle

'Another day, another night

The veil of sleep to erase your strife

Another day, another night

Darkness to keep your troubles at bay

Another day, another night

A pound of flesh to ease your pain

Another day, another night

Pints of blood to keep your hunger away

Another day, another night

A song to act as your light

Another day, another night

A caring mother to tuck you in,

And protect you with all her might'

As Sarah finished the lullaby,

She looked down

At the slumbering lump before her

A warm smile formed on her face

As she thought of this wondrous child,

And the destruction they would someday

Bring upon this filthy world

"your kid isn't doing well with other kids in school," the teachers face was sympathetic. her eyes had a pain that said that the situation was serious.

"is there anything i could do to help him?"

she took a minute to reflect on my question. likely, she was used to parents who denied the fact that their kid was a terror. her nervous ear scratches and paper shuffling were percussion to her drawn out sigh. she glanced at the floor to give herself a second for recollection, then locked my eyes and said: "your child is something i have never experienced in all of my years of teaching. he doesn't seem to understand what i tell him, yet he's the brightest in the class. he gets confused when his peers try to talk to him and he just won't respond. then, he will get angry with them when they leave him out of their recess games."

none of this was news to me. my child only had me as an example, and i was never home. i always encouraged him to make friends with our neighbors, and he got along with them swimmingly. one night, the neighbor came running to my door around midnight, frantically screaming to wake me. he claimed my kid had lit his home on fire, but the building was cast in shadows like the others on the block. as he got closer, i realized his hair was smoldering and his skin was black as tar. his blackened skin hithchiked on the wind like dust. "Your child did this!" except, Ariun was still in his bed. the police were never able to determine how the fire started, leaving our neighbor with no insurance and us with no defence. we moved away, to a whole new part of the world where we could each grow into a new, better version of ourselves.

Ariun was fourteen now, and still no better. i know he is a special kid, but i don't know how - or why. "our school offers services for families like yours, who need an extra hand when it comes to socializaton." mostly in an effort to get home, i took the brochure and left the teacher with the reassurance that i would be looking into options.

i couldn't even make it back to the car. a beautiful woman in a flowing red dress seemed to glide toward me. mystified, i watched her hair flow behind her head in the effortless way one's hair does. "Hello," she seemed to say to me, "i am your son's real mother."

#whatdoyouthink