It was the Dwen,

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“Do’ ansa you name if you only hear it once. You hear me? Do’ ansa if you no see nobody. Do’ go outside,  jus kip quiet and go ’bout you way.” She wiped her hands on her apron,  and sat heavily on the concrete, coal pot smoke wafting around her in the twilight.

“You see de boy Fredrick, lib ova so? He na juss come nuh? Is de Dwen, dat did tek him. You wan’ en’ up like he?” she had told us this story about 50 times in a tenth the number of days. In fact it was all the old people could talk about.

The boy who had disappeared over 20 years ago.  Found wandering the main road coming into the village, in a stupor. Claimed he was just playing with a little girl in the bush, just yesterday. But yesterday was 20 years gone and he come back a big man. Well, with a big man body anyhow.

He looked frighten when he saw his reflection. Even more so when he saw his mother, who had long abandoned sanity for missing her only son and mourning her husband who died of grief. It was him, because his fingerprints match those of the child that disappeared.

Later Javonte Piper would tell what the old people didn’t know, that he saw Fredrick come back. He said he fell out of a rippling reflection in the middle of a wild tamarind thicket. Said before the air became clear and thin again, he self heard a little girl laughing. Said the place was cold all when it happened, and truth be told if you walk there you feel a chill, more than that cause it cold from in your bones.

I nudge my daughter, rolling her eyes, she needs to listen.

“Do’ answer if you hear jus’ one call.”

In response to photo-fiction #26 

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