The Bookshelf in the Forest

       Daylight is loud. Birds screams slip through the tightly shut windows. Wind bellows all around the house. Everyone is awake. Everyone is alive.      Once night comes, I sleep hard enough that the entire wilderness is ... silence. Pure and beautiful silence. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to wish for. Nothingness. Glasslike in its simpleness, the reality of abyss. No darkness, no light, just the black splotch that ends each phrase.      Red splots my hands as I pluck berries from the underbrush. I place them into my basket and ignore the juices seeping into the moss that I kneel upon. I sometimes reach down and touch the moistened moss, rub my hands over it; it's warm. As it dries it leaves my hands an auburn-y red.       I rinse my hands under the sink and watch as the auburn races down into the drain. I try to replicate the auburn with the juice of the raspberries, but it is always too sweet a red.  ...

      I had never expected the woods to be this frightening, especially in the daytime. In the night I don't have to worry about seeing corpses hanging on the trees; blood dripping onto the moss below. At night, I sleep so hard I don't hear them screaming. The screaming is gone by the morning, they've run out of energy and air.     My hands tremble as I pluck raspberries from the bush. When I'm done plucking, my hands are covered in blood, and not just from the thorns pricking me. I oftentimes wash the berries so long that they completely break. Whenever this happens, I have to go back out and go through the whole agonizing process all over again.     I really shouldn't be scared anymore. I mean, it is my doing. Plus, there's not much else to do when you live in the middle of the woods, many miles from anyone else. My father was the first I killed. Then, people came through and knocked on my door to ask about the body, and I'm sure you know what happen...

John Jones had married Lucille thinking she could get his little family off of the ground. Instead, Lucille abused the children, spent all of her money before John and she married, bringing the family down further. She refused to sell her jewelry or clothing to help the family, and she would beat the children if they didn’t sell enough cookies each day. She would take away their food and sometimes make them sleep outside at night, even in the winter. John tried to stop her at first, but she manipulated him well, and John ended up being just as cruel as she was.  Lucille had met John three years after the war, he was in rough shape, and had hardly any money; so she decided to step in. She thought they’d care for her, thank her for all of her help. But the family did not, so she just harmed them all, three at a time. Although Hansel and Gretel were constantly filled with fear, they comforted each other. Lucille had a habit of beating Gretel, tearing her down. Hansel would d...

    Willa Anderson grew up with her father and mother when she was very young. Her mother would tie her hair into braids and decorate them with flowers. She would wear flowy pastel dresses, blouses, and skirts in shades of green, blue, yellow, pink, and orange. Her nose and cheeks would get red from the sun in the summer and the cold in the winter. Everything seemed alright for young Willa Anderson. But, her father would tug the daisies out of her golden hair. He would take away the moisture from the moss in her eyes. Her face would go pale as if she were a corpse. Although life was hard for young Willa Anderson, she had her guardian angel in red. She had seen the angel many times when picking flowers, the angel made her feel safe. One day, she went home after picking flowers to find her mother murdered by her father, her father had shot himself. Willa was six.     She then went to live in an orphanage. Not much seemed to have changed; her hair still got tugged on, ...