Stuffies

The question nobody thinks to ask is why a child has a favorite stuffed animal. Not why in general. Not an existential question about the existence of a favorite. No, the question is about that specific animal. What about that specific animal caused the child to choose it above all others.

If the question were ever posed - which is it not - most adults would assume it to be stochastic. Something about the touch. Something about the look. Probably something about how long they had the animal in their possession.

They would be wrong.

What the children sense but adults have long since forgotten is protection. The favorite is the favorite because it best wards off what lurks in the darkness.

This story is not about those children. This story is about children who have no such privilege, no such guardian. It is, in fact, about one specific child, a girl of no more than eight, whose unfortunate lot in life has extended to the fact that she continues to survive, misery increasing on misery, without cessation.

And still. There are the basic facts. There is a child. And there are things that lurk in the dark. And this child, this girl, must face those things that lurk in the dark.