Come away, human child
It started with the babies. Most never noticed. Some did, years later. Their child would act strange, act odd. But most…most acted just like a normal human, never to be strange.
To the woods and waters wild
Then it turned to young children. Those young enough to walk around on their own, stolen from the farm. Then those old enough to play in the woods. Then those on the cusp of adulthood.
With a faerie hand in hand
Soon, they didn’t need to be stolen. They were asked. The adults never realized how much children knew of the world, of the woes and wearies, of the weight of life. Even those who barely spoke, even those that didn’t. The babes in their cradles didn’t need words to know the expectations of them.
And then, they stopped. It was sudden. Too many children, not enough oddity. The bowls of milk and honey had stopped, too much iron never kissed by heat. Even as the sacred woods were cut down.
But there still remained children, babies and teens, crying out for another world. Another place. Somewhere kinder, in its own harsh ways. Sometimes acceptance and death was kinder than hiding.
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.