By Kendra Judge
There is a monster stalking everyone, everywhere. None escape her changing touch. That bent, beguiling beldam, Age.
As children, we reach for her, hoping for a hug. Bigger, faster, stronger? All wishes that she grants.
For teenage years, she throws an itchy, skritchy skin on us. A restless, reckless need for fun. And still we long for more.
Then she tires of us. Stops offering gifts.
In our forties, monstrous Age grows hungry. Shows her fangs. She gnaws, she slurps, she withers us, stealing youth away.
We spy the witch behind the candy now. We see Age in all her horror.
One way of looking at it. My eldest grandson is entering the wish-I-was-older stage.
I remember that age…
Silly me!
Nice idea; well done.
All so true.
Nicely done!
Beautifully expressed, a sad truth.
Well written and poignant!
Nice! I especially liked “throws an itchy, skritchy skin on us.” Thank you for the read!
How true.
Really liked it!
A wonderful personification of something which people fear, yet embrace. A fabulous little piece.
Powerful!
Thank you all so much for your comments!
This was simply brilliant. One is never grateful for the gift of life. Always envying the older or the younger, never living in the moment. And you captured it really well.