Twelve Little Riddles

Twelve little riddles

Lying in the dark

Waiting for someone

To light them with a spark

Dancing in the palace

Spinning fast and free

Waiting for someone

To come unlock the key

* * *

            The sound I made caught between a giggle and a snort and it made me cough. Her head snapped toward me, and she glared. I smirked and leaned my head against the trunk, catching my breath.

            “I was not addressing you,” she snapped, embarrassed and irritated, I would guess, although, admittedly, my social skills were a bit dusty.

            “Then you should not speak so freely,” I said mockingly. She grimaced and turned away. I looked at her back, so ramrod straight and righteous. “It won’t answer, you know.”

            She glanced at me. “What?”

            “The dark,” I told her, jerking my chin toward the shadows. “It does not talk to little girls like you and me.”

            “Then to whom does it speak?” she asked tiredly.

            “Stone and stars and old trees,” I said, humming up and down. “The likes of which would never lean toward me.” I began to chuckle, tapping my fingers along the roots of the pine. She growled and scrambled to her feet. Kicking a fallen branch from her way, she walked stiffly from the camp. “Don’t wander too far, lavender-lu. I’d hate to think of the fit poor pussy would have if you caught a death,” I laughed, not at all humorously.