The problem is I've too many secrets and sometimes it's hard to keep up with your own lies.

I can't stop making lists of lost things that shouldn't be found again. Lost hair. Lost blood.Lost souls.

But it was us. It was the spell. It was three girls messing with something we didn't understand.

We cut our fingers and drank the burning alcohol and wrote out our losses on the branches of trees.And that's when the weirdness started.Moss became fur became dead animas on the floor of the fores. The trees became the spaces between the trees. We three held hands and made noises that weren't words, but that Holly said lated were a calling. A calling for the lost to be found

Bang went the thunder. Whimper went the rain. Burn, burn, burn went the lighning. The sky was a rush of water with the lake rising to meet it, and in its choppy waves I saw more bodies, more red, open mouths, hands like claws wanting to pull us under. My heart was the backbeat to the thunder.

I have secrets. I tell lies. I drink too much and I steal things sometimes. One day my freckled skin will go scaly and everyone will se what a monster I can be.

If you’re not careful you can spend your whole life looking for what you’ve lost.

Rumors spread on nights like this, under the cold darkness.

I am afraid of everybody else's secrets

Be careful what you wish for; Not all lost things should be found.