Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the playground seemed to mock Clara's unease. Her niece, Lily, swung happily, her laughter echoing in the air. On the picnic table, a drawing lay face up. A tall, thin figure with spindly limbs, holding Lily's hand. It was "Silas," her own childhood friend.

Clara felt a wave of icy dread. She remembered the secret language, the games played in the woods, the things Silas had convinced her to do. Her palms began to prickle. The familiar feelings of isolation and fear rose up.

She wanted to call to Lily, to pull her away. But her throat felt constricted, and the words wouldn’t come. She needed to leave, to get away from here, away from the drawing, away from the past.