A monster met a monster and they went to the ball.

They ate up all the people and drank the alcohol.

Hey!

You've almost arrived at the crossroad from Spoot.

Stay tuned. My father waited my clothes with lead the day I turned seven.

For your protection, he said.

Teaching me to slouch, to mumble, to hide, to grovel.

I never missed the mother I didn't have, but I did miss the brother I'd never met.

He was a good boy, my father said.

Sometimes at night after he told me stories from faraway places, he was a good boy.

I grew up happy. The forest, my playground, my father raised me in the mountains,

just the two of us away from the world, for your protection, he'd say.

Watching me through the veil, he made me wear,

even in our isolation,

the world is not ready.

I thought he meant my disease,

how people reacted when they saw me,

the way birds followed me home,

how wolves rolled onto their backs when I pass,

and flowers bloomed out of season in my footsteps.

You are special, father said. Waiting my clothes, teaching me to slouch, to mumble, to hide.

They must never know.

...