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The Lady Voyante's StoryGrowing up, Clara watched as her mother set the shelves in order, humming a cheery tune as she clustered tiny ceramic jars on shelf after shelf of their little home.
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When the chores were done, Clara would swing her legs and fidget as her mother brushed her hair on the front steps of their home, loving the blue of the sky and the smell of the trees and the lyrical sound of her mother's voice.
Secret keeping is a gift, her mother would say. A gift given to keep people together. They weigh quite a lot, secrets, and bearing the news on your own- good or bad- can be a terrible weight to keep in. They are born of emotion, you see- a vapor that cannot be kept contained. The girl felt a tug as her mother reached for a nearby jar. And so, secret keepers are needed, and always will be. There are few like us- she wedged her thumbnail into the cork stopper- who give form to these secrets.
Clara turned and watched a tiny cocoon slide out onto her awaiting palm, and moth
Little Monster's Halloween"BUT MOOOOM!"
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the little boy pinches at his face and pulls the skin. He doesn't like it, but his mother insists.
It is October 30th, and they need something from the store down the street.
His mother puts on big dark glasses, and drapes a dress over her shining scales.
At the door, the boy must put on a cap to hide his pointy ears. His mother puts on a wig, and out the door they go.
Walking down the street, his mother practices waving to the nice lady throwing water on leaves in her front yard, and the boy waves to the girl who picks her nose two houses down. They are strange to the boy and his mother, but it is impolite to say so. They haven't learned to 'chat'- that's next month's lesson. They do not stop and converse with the mailbox, because last time someone stared.
At the store, the woman picks up a shopping carriage and follows the smell of meat. The meat is where it was last time. She is very proud of herself for finding it without his father's help. The boy knows his numbers.