Red

It's a bright beginning-of-summer day
And the young girl is dreaming.
Dreaming of end-of-school,
Of lips stained popsicle purple,
Of splashing in the local pool.
She thinks of sleepovers with friends,
And camping with her family.
She walks home from the bus stop,
Not more than two blocks, on the sidewalk,
Under a bright green shade of tree leaves.
She waves to a man who waters his lawn,
As his dog barks from the backyard.

It's a bright beginning-of-summer day
And she doesn't know that this day
Will be the last of her childhood.
The end of boogie monsters
In the closet, and shadows
Lurking under the bed.
Her shiny chestnut child's hair,
Caught up in a high ponytail,
Brushes against the backpack on her shoulders.
The bright red backpack,
That will be all that is left,
To identify her body.

All he can see is darkness.
The plan is unfolding,
Just as his Other told him it would.
But the Other did not warn him
About the blindness.
Still, he feels safe, he knows, knows,
Knows,
The Other will help him,
Will guide his hands when the time comes,
If they are doubtful as they were last time.
Stupid doubtful hands, never listening
To him and his Other.

All he can see is darkness.
He drives down the empty street,
Wishing he could turn on his lights
To cut through the darkness.
But the Other says no, no we are close.
He pulls a small hunting knife
Out of the glovebox and cuts
Down the inside of his own arm.
Cleansing himself, making himself pure.
The darkness starts to clear
And he catches a glimpse of chestnut and red.
Blood red, and the Other says now.