Short Story
By: Nicole Busch
The sun rising over
The mountains
Peaking out, only
Their eyes being shown
“Peek-a-boo” she chants,
so happy to be alive.
But there is a cloud,
Dark and ominous,
Looking, laughing
At the sun,
Taunting her to play.
Her happy smile,
So fearful, overlooking
The dark day ahead.
His laughter, dark
Like his color,
Hoarse, like his
Texture, and jagged
Like his misfit shape.
Her mother, floating
Towards her brightness.
Her perfect yellow
Shape, shielding
To many innocent eyes,
Harmful to the
Dark demon, ordering,
Punishing, banishing
Him away from her
Happy, healthy home
In the mountains.
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