Say a prayer to those who listen

He is not solid, not a creature that is reliable and strong. he is more like water, more like shadows and the night sky. he is a creature of dark and quiet places, of words unsaid and caught in your throat.

He is so many things but concrete and stone is not one of them.

But the little girl interests him, she’s curious and so small, fragile with so many words caught in her throat. It’s delicious and interesting and wonderful.

He slips through he cracks, slides under her door and appears to her in the night whispers words into her mind and haunts her as she sleeps. He doesn’t care if it’s an invasion of privacy, such things are beneath him, but he does leave her notebooks as a thank you. He leaves her proper books as well, books of poetry and old stories, novels of adventure and of grief.

he leaves her all manner of words so she can fill herself up again, so he might find her antoher night and feed and haunt and revel in her.