Sarah A. Chavez
Halfbreed Helene Is Good at Hiding
There isn’t a hole in existence that she does not want to crawl into. Coverless manhole, the missing slats on the mobile home, ground dug out for the new rail system, the hole in the concrete of the school from the parent who drunkenly smashed into the concrete corner.
No matter how thick a brick, how many stacked planks, how solid something looks, there is a hollow lurking beneath, an emptiness, a void, a space, solitary where Helene can crawl. The plus of her shortness, the invisibility of her limbs, no one even knows she’s not present. She was never there to begin with.
Scared of spiders, but scared of the neighbor boy too, she takes her chances with the 8 eyes & legs & fangs. A smaller bite at least, a shorter pain.
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