“I’m talking to you now because you’re listening to me. I know you are. I can feel your attention, cool and bright on my face, but not harsh and damaging like the sun. You illuminate my entire being. The sun only washes me out and burns me.”

I can feel your contemplation.

A young girl sits by herself on a swing-set in an empty playground. The sky is black, save for the gleam of the moon, and the colorful speckles and bursts of fireworks breaking the navy blue sheen here and there. She cradles a pristine steel hatchet in her lap. It glistens brilliantly in the moonlight, while casting both curved and hard edged shadows across the girl’s torso.

“I remember when I realized who I was. Dad let me help with the woodworking and the weeds. Too many weeds, he said. Why don’t you give it a go? But don’t tell your mother.”

  “I could feel every last groan and squelch of the twigs as I cut them clean, through and through. I could feel it in my supple, pale, undeveloped fingers. My, how I felt so strong, so in control.”
She smiles ever so slightly to herself, as if remembering an inside joke she once shared with a close friend.

“But then they said I wasn’t to do it anymore. It wasn’t right for a ‘little girl’ my age to spend every moment cutting it down.

Go play with your dolls.

I can’t. They are confetti now. Not any party to speak of. I spent my birthday with the weeds and my love.

I’m talking to you now because this is the only time I can sneak my love outside of the shed where Papa hides it.” The only time I can be me.

“I can hear the shouts and the cheers and the popping of the alcohol bottles and confetti cannons. All enjoying being them, celebrating the start of a whole new millennium of.. cotinuing to be themselves.”

She closes her eyes, feeling the cool breeze beckon at her eyelids.

“And another new year of hiding away, only allowed to be me in the cloak  of darkness. Another new year reminding me of the emptiness and hollowness of the year before. I’m talking to you now because I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Laughing and crying, jeering and snorting, yelling and screaming;

I can hear it.

“They tell me I’m troubled for playing with my love out in the middle of the afternoon when the sun presents me clear as day to the neighbors.”

Her smile turns sour, and her pale knuckles turn even whiter as she clenches the handle of the hatchet.

“I hate it. I hate the sun. People glare at me when I am with my love. Glaring like the sun. I don't want to be a play for people to see. I don't want them to see me. They couldn't possibly understand. I don’t want them to see me. So I’m talking to you now, because here, it’s just you, me, and my love.”

The stars are so bright now.

“I’m talking to you now because I can’t hide anymore. Your soft, pale light illuminated my understanding, and I now realize I need to help them all understand who I am. I need to share my true self with them. I’m developing down there but I’m still not me.”

I can’t help but feel just a flicker of animosity.

“I hate the sun. It’s unwelcome. Trying to make me out as a freak. I’m not. The only way they’ll understand is if they see my love under your soft, pale light. Every new year is a beginning for them but a cycle for me. No longer. Now, it changes.”

The moon, my love, and me, out on the town. That’s where this leads.

And the sky is so black.

Oh, what an occasion that would be.

“Now they’re all unsure. The old ones’ calendar runs out tonight, and they all worry about what might be: what they don’t understand. The old ones understood the importance of your light. The beauty of my love.”

Tonight, finally, I’ll help them all understand.

Laughing. Snorting. Jeering, cheering, popping. Yelling. Crying. Screaming. I can hear it.

“I’m talking to you now because I’m finally free. I’m in control again. After all this time. Just like I remembered. My, I could feel every last groan and squelch as I cut them clean, through and through. I could feel it in my supple red fingers. Just like before.

She presses the hatchet against her heart and leans up, eyes closed, face towards the moon. She sways slowly and gracefully on the swing, enjoying the tingling sensation of the moonlight licking her skin and the cool breeze whispering against her face.

“But now I don’t need to hide anymore. The sun only burns me and burns my love with its glare. But under your soft, pale light, my love shines for them. I can see it in their eyes. They finally understand.

I’m talking to you now, because I still have work to do.

I have work to do.