A child named Merry-Go-Round It was another hot summer's day in the small Austrian town when it happened. A little pale boy with hair jet as ink and a white forelock parting the middle of it was sitting in loneliness beneath the strong shade of a grand oak tree, umbrella in hand to shield him from the lethal sun. It was usual of him to watch the town children play their games out in the field while he cradled himself beneath the protection of the trees, lonely and sad knowing he could not play with them at all due to his "uniqueness".A child named Merry-Go-Round6 years ago in Short Stories
His mother told him of them. The ancient mistress who was parent to the little boy always said and warned him that the neighbors, or the "humans", did not take their presences well. Shunned, hated, feared they were. She warned him that interacting with the beings brought nothing but sadness, but being alone the way he was that day was a powerful grief he had to deal with.
It was usual, but it was still heartbreaking. I