A child in time  slipped down a creaking stairs.

Isn’t there something about the pivotal role of a stairways, stairwell in plot.

Impish demeanor at the thought of nocturnal adventures with Renee the deer.

Every illustrators dream scheme.

Indeed one could say dream team maybe even dream theme. 

This predictable wide mischief grin seemed to widen with every daring step taken.

Aretha hoped she wouldn’t wake her parents.

She, Aretha hadn’t ever in the past which is peculiar.

They both claimed to be light sleepers.

One of Aretlha’s many mystical traits was that she often had these little conversations with herself.

Not out of loneliness or alienation but as that absent minded prodigy her teachers felt she might one day be. 

Aretha could also in her enthusiasm mix up dates even obvious one’s in her general zest.

She was old enough not to make too much noise. 

It was her nightly date with a deer in the neighbouring copse.

Renee the deer.

The tamed deer that is and her parents would sometimes bring their daughter to play with Renee during daylight hours.

Brazenly under a silver star and moon mosaic sky.

“Oooh … I sense my pet deer Renee’s presence.”

Little Aretha had this ritual.

Of late Aretha had become aware of a peculiar feeling when with Renee.

She couldn’t phrase it but at this point it didn’t concern her unduly.

This enchanted child with ocean blue eyes had this hyper awareness.

“How come my parents don’t know or seem to   know what I’m up to?”

Aretha pondered.

“Maybe they know how much I love the world …: Earth.

Everything it has.

City magic day or night.”

This child and her sense of wonder.

“Inheritance…. oh that big word.

Well, for a child.”

Aretha was running along a shortcut to the green expanse near the hazy street lights.

The usual cobblestones pathways of intrigue, shadowy shaped thespians of the after midnight sonorous bell.

Cars sounding horns at spurious ghosts that were but phantoms of the mind.

Well, someone’s mind if not the drivers.

“My parents, maybe they do about my yen for night and  day  things.”

She, Aretha mused.

“One day you’ll INHERIT the earth … you are so wonderful.”

Aretta’s father once said to her.

Her mother chirped in too.

“Maybe one day I will inherit the earth.”

Aretha’s poignant sigh.

Those thoughts were circulating in the child’s head as the late

 December city had this Christmas feel.

Inspired by and dedicated to my beautiful and brilliant sister Jay A.Pallen