25
“It’s about time you stopped believing in those cookies,” Emilia said, rolling her eyes. I nodded with a tight smile. “The old mill had always emitted a faint glow during the night hours, like a little piece of day stuck in the middle of night, and was now gone for eternity.” I smiled to myself and threw the crumpled piece of paper into the trash can; fulfilling its request—its plea—to be rid of this town. Searching her eyes, I said, “I’d often wished I could appear more human, but my hometown had been after me for twenty years. Every full moon, every time I saw a picture of our lunar friend on my phone, in poetry or projected across the sky, it called to mind those days long gone: all the dead people, their spirits lingering like a fog in the air. My town was still hunting for me and th
- Writer
