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Tattle Tale

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Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
As I watch from a different point of view, I see a ring of familiar faces floating in the air.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
They circle around one face, which, from my perch, is unfamiliar to me.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
I watch with sick curiosity. I know not how I got here or why I am watching this strange show, but as the seconds tick by, the lone face becomes clearer.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
And now I recognize the face. My stomach drops and I begin to feel sick. The face belongs to me.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
What have I done to deserve this humiliation? Why cant they hear the muffled words that pour from my mouth?
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
And then I realize with a slow chill as icy as death it self, that my mouth is why I am in this circle. My words found their way out, aided by my jaws. And now I wish I had kept my words suppressed.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!
The faces pop like bubbles, and with a startled shriek, I wake in cold, sticky sweat. The chilling words resounding in my ears.
Tattle tale! Tattle tale!





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