The unborn child of mine now 15 years fast forward.  The mother the love of my life, taken from her own.  Pregnant with the next me, the one to follow in my footsteps, the one I am to teach.

 It was me, a mini me, a younger version of what I am and have become tauntiing the rules of society with highjinx and trickery.  A prank by no one of this world, cleverness uncapable of a human, at least of a human in this region.  Banjos should be played not my mind.

The group scattered mimicing the uncrushable cockroaches.  Questions spilling from brain to tounge, and a vanish by the suspect.

Going back into the house the discussion was far from over, but emptiness and dirty dishes had replaced the conversation at hand.  The colors in this room lost their hue resembling a moving sepia photograph. a piece of tragic art displayed by a local trying to make it.  Creaks and cracks now the main contributers.  Plaster falling down from above the story teller. Me alone, me talking to myself.

Reminants of a former me faded away making room for the reality on this hallows eve.  **** candy, you little bastards can't have any tommorw, I'm double checking that the porch light is off....knock on my door and reap the consequence.  I need to replace them, this will not be without struggle.