A shiver ran through her body as she sat among the damp moss and she pulled the stolen jacket closer around her. She couldn't help it. Someone had hung the jacket around the chair and left it to get a drink. It was waiting for her and all she had to do was take it. She hated taking things. It was wrong, she knew, and she felt horrible after she took anything, but she really couldn't help it. It was more than a habbit, it was an addiction, and she couldn't stop. She didn't even think about it anymore. Her hand shot out at the perfect moment and it never came back empty. Every time it happened she would come out on this trail, just to be alone, to cry. She let the tears fall freely, and suddenly, despite the cold, she was burning. Her arms, her stomach, her back. Burning as iron to a pixie. She had to get it off of her. Her hands fumbled with the zipper. When she finnaly got it open she ripped it from her body but the pain remained. It tore the screams from her throat and the fire spread untill her whole body shook with the awsome pain of the stolen jacket. The lake, that was the only way to stop it. So she ran; she ran like she never had before. And she embraced the lade water. It loved her. It eased her. It held her. And it never let go.
August 10, 2008