Shh. Stay silent. I’m waiting for the swallow to bring me a message. The nurses suspect the birds, of course, but not even nurses can stop the birds from singing.
So, hush. You think me silly, don’t you? Everyone does. “Look at how tiny she is!” they say. They forget I’ve brains and hands. Did you know that they saw how small I was and assumed I was crazy. Being the size of your thumb would make anyone crazy, wouldn’t it?
Oh, but you don’t survive this long this small AND crazy. And the birds do talk to me. Birds talk to me–you hear secrets when you’re small enough for others to forget. Even the birds forget I’m here.
Oh, but worst thing–the men who ask me to marry them. The real trouble comes when you say no again and again. You must be crazy to turn down such men. Everyone says so. Ha. Now they say I’ll never get married. Missed my chance. Like I had a chance.
Those men bore me.
Here’s what I’ve learned–when you’re pretty, no rich man is ever supposed to be boring. You’re crazy if you say he is.
So. I stopped being pretty.
It hurt at first.
But now those toads, those moles, don’t want me anymore. Honestly, I hate it here, but at least my room and my bed are my own.
And soon I’ll escape. Don’t think I won’t. So, hush. The birds are singing and I’m listening.