You were staying with your father in his ranch house on Maple lane. The thing is, I didn’t how I was going to tell you, the truth, those words, the black-hearted tale that would flatten you, but it had to be done.
Before I left the garden, I gathered myself by watering the grounds, my tulips, and the snapdragons, as I drank one cold shot of fireball. I placed a sheer scarf around my neck for comfort. With the silk against my skin, I hoped it would give me the strength to dig between the layers that might set us free.
You were surprised to see me at your door but let me inside. My voice was hoarse, a bit shaky when I told you the things I’d uncovered.
“The thing is,” I swallowed, “You know our friend has been hanging around with Goth kids. Lila's under a spell and not herself. Her behavior is shady. You can’t believe a word, when she says, she wants to be with you.” I pull my scarf close to my throat and breath out of my nose for relief before I say, “I know you love her, but she’s a bit mad. It’s the voodoo, you see. This is the thing you must know.” I whisper it, as he glares at me with dark eyes.
My footsteps are loud, as I try to make my way out quickly, toward the front door. The fat moon has cast its pearly shadow on your lonesome street.
And, it was enough to guide me back home