by
Bobby Derie
Not every child was curious. One stood apart from her fellows, very quiet. She would stand at the edge of the playground, watching the trees. Once, I asked her why.
"Because they come from the trees. The shadows. The other kids don't know. It's better that way. They wouldn't know how to fight them anyway." She had wrapped an old silver necklace around her small fist, the links pressing into the flesh, like knuckles. "And you have to fight them. I won't let anyone else be taken."
She stared into the trees and raised her voice. "Never again."
Her name, I later found out, was Violet. But the children called her Vengeance. She was the only child I knew that was never curious...because she already knew.
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