From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were--I have not seen
As others saw--I could not bring
My passions from a common spring--
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow--I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone--
All I lov’d--I lov’d alone...

      ~Edgar Allen Poe

      Stone circle. . . hazy faces. . . light, dark. . . dreams. . .

      Farmer’s daughter. Pretty house with roof of straw. . . dog. . . chickens. . . woodsmoke and dreams. . .

      Days, full of light and running. . . young. . . uncanny child, Mother says. . . starry nights. . . lullabies and winter nights by the fire. . .

      Yesterday was my sixth birthday. Six whole years! Father says I shall be all grown up soon. But I’m not old like that yet. That’s a long time away.

      Father left for the fields at dawn. I don’t see him much during the fall, he’s too busy with the harvest. When winter comes, we will all have lots of time in the house, for the snow gets so high that we sometimes cannot open the door.

      Today, though, it’s still very warm for fall. Mother is letting me play outside, as long as I do not stray far from the house, as I often do. She says I make her a year older every time I get lost. But I don’t get lost. I just take a long time getting back home.

      Afternoons here are dull. Not all the time, but right now, this one is. There’s nothing to do. Nothing at all. I’m bored. There’s only so much I can do with heaps of fallen leaves, after all.

      There’s something, though, an idea that appears from nowhere. . . to become something else. . . I know it’s impossible, but I cannot help it, I can just feel something guiding me down to a place inside me, where if I just concentrate, reach. . . it happens. . .

      And it does happen. One moment, I was a human girl-child...and the next, a small brown puppy! Oh, games, yes, so much fun! Chasing the hens, they can’t really be that scared, I won’t hurt them! Oh, this is so much more fun than sitting around!

      Mother’s coming, maybe she’ll play too...Uh oh...she doesn’t look happy, and she’s carrying a pan of something. She’s yelling at me to get away, to leave, but mother, it’s me, it’s just me! No! What? Mother, what...why...hey! She storms up and promptly lets the contents of the pan down, right on my head! Freezing cold water! The shock of it makes me shift back, to me, the human child.

      Mother turns completely white, as white as her blouse. Her eyes are wide as saucers, and a horrified expression steals across her face. Gasping for breath from the shock, she backs away a few steps, then. . . uh oh. She’s screaming. “No! Demonchild! Oh gods! Riss! Riss! Demons!”

      I try to call out to her, but she’s screaming so loud she doesn’t hear me. “Mother, please, it’s me! Mother, no! Please. . . I was playing, just playing. . .” She runs away, screaming for Father. “Mother. . . it was just a game. . .” She doesn’t look back, and I sink down into the dust and slowly slip into heartbroken tears. “Mother, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. . . it was just a game, Mother, please. . .I won’t do it again. . .”

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