SUSANNAH STEWART | TALES FOR NAUGHTY CHILDREN
We’re Sorry, We Won’t Tell
Please let us out
Remorse is the poison of life.
Charlotte Bronte
“The walls of this house eat naughty children,” the old woman told her visitors.
“Naughty! What a dumb word. Nobody talks like that anymore.”
“We don’t have to listen to you.”
“You’re just an old lady. Probably should already be dead. You don’t know what things are like now.”
“Some things never change, especially around here,” she replied in a mild voice.
“We’re on vacation and our parents aren’t around. We’ll do whatever we want.”
She shook her head and said, “Suit yourself. I’ve met my obligation.”
She always gave the warning, but she never interfered.
They chased the cat and kicked the dog, Threw rocks at the birds and stepped on the frog.
Who cares how they feel. They’re just dumb creatures.
They romped in the garden and trampled the flowers, That had been lovingly tended for hours and hours.
Who cares what’s ruined. It’s not ours.
They ran up the stairs and ran down the halls, Scarred up the floors and threw mud on the walls.
Who cares about this house. We’ll show that old lady.
“Yes, folks, we’ll get the search parties out right away,” the local sheriff told the parents. As he turned to leave, he said, “I have one more question.”
“Are they well-behaved children?”
The walls never speak Clutching their secrets tightly But sometimes they smile
“What do you think, Merriam? Is it too harsh?” asked Susannah Stewart.
Merriam-Webster: de·sert | di-ˈzərt: deserved reward or punishment — usually used in plural got their just deserts
“Good. That’s what I thought too.”
Read more about Susannah Stewart and Merriam-Webster in my personal publication, Appalachian Tales and Trails.