[she can't give an easy or clear answer to that. she doesn't know how to, not while she's still feeling things out. not while she doesn't have a clear answer herself. so she draws in a slow breath and considers what to say. and, well. she's not totally devoid of that kind of answer.]
There's a story I know. From back home. It's about this little girl who was scared to death of a Butzemann. A boogeyman. [might as well make it clear who she's talking about.] She only ever heard one story about her, but her mind kept inventing bigger and bigger things just from that one little story. The only thing she knew for sure was that the boogeyman was strong—stronger than her, and probably very deadly.
She kept spinning these stories over and over in her head, building up the boogeyman to be even worse, even more dangerous. Ruthless, murderous, terrifying. [there are parts of this story, born from her own history, that she hasn't told anyone about. now's as good a time as any.] Thoughts of her kept the girl up at night, shaking in her bed and begging for the sunlight so she could pretend everything was okay again.
And then one day, out of nowhere... she met the boogeyman. And she started talking to her instead of running. And she learned just how much of what she'd built up was just exaggeration. How many things she'd assumed from just the tiniest little bit of information, and how much of it was totally wrong.
[she leans back, crosses her arms over her chest. lets her cigarette dangle.]
And that's kind of the end of the story, or at least the part of it that matters here. But it's a story about how one girl can let her imagination get the better of her, and how sometimes, it's just the result of trying to find answers when you don't have any. And it's a cautionary tale, too. Imagine if she'd been right. Imagine what would've happened to her if the Butzemann was exactly as murderous and vengeful as she thought.
no subject
There's a story I know. From back home. It's about this little girl who was scared to death of a Butzemann. A boogeyman. [might as well make it clear who she's talking about.] She only ever heard one story about her, but her mind kept inventing bigger and bigger things just from that one little story. The only thing she knew for sure was that the boogeyman was strong—stronger than her, and probably very deadly.
She kept spinning these stories over and over in her head, building up the boogeyman to be even worse, even more dangerous. Ruthless, murderous, terrifying. [there are parts of this story, born from her own history, that she hasn't told anyone about. now's as good a time as any.] Thoughts of her kept the girl up at night, shaking in her bed and begging for the sunlight so she could pretend everything was okay again.
And then one day, out of nowhere... she met the boogeyman. And she started talking to her instead of running. And she learned just how much of what she'd built up was just exaggeration. How many things she'd assumed from just the tiniest little bit of information, and how much of it was totally wrong.
[she leans back, crosses her arms over her chest. lets her cigarette dangle.]
And that's kind of the end of the story, or at least the part of it that matters here. But it's a story about how one girl can let her imagination get the better of her, and how sometimes, it's just the result of trying to find answers when you don't have any. And it's a cautionary tale, too. Imagine if she'd been right. Imagine what would've happened to her if the Butzemann was exactly as murderous and vengeful as she thought.