girl scouts

They were coming closer. She could sense it—something she’d been able to do since she was a child. It was a gift. One she cherished and that had served her well over the years. No one was exactly sure where it came from. But she knew. It was from the days when she was one of them herself.

Lately, though, she was becoming weaker. They would arrive and catch her off-guard. Once, last month, she was taken by complete surprise. It was as if they had popped, fully formed, from the earth.

That day, she discovered she was unable to fight them without prior knowledge of their arrival. That day, she lost a battle.

Maybe it was the person she pretended to be during her soul-sucking job. Maybe it was the stress of people constantly looking to her for answers. Maybe it was simply the pressure of trying to force herself to retain the gift. Whatever the cause, she was losing hold of it.

She shushed the creatures clinging to her and peeked out the slit of sheer curtain draped over the dining room window. Yes. There they were. Marching across her lawn.

In all shapes and sizes, but with uniforms that marked them as the enemy, they approached. She would be ready. She would not lose this battle.

Letting the fabric fall over the window, she backed away, shutting lights off as she went. The knock would not startle her. Not this time. And this time, she would not answer the call of the Brownie Troop. She would buy no cookies today.