You Don't Bring Me Dead Things Anymore

My Dearest Remy,

It's been too long since I last heard you voice. Much too long. It's been lonely here without you. Nobody comes to visit me much these days, except when they want something from me. Take, take, take, that's all they ever do. They're not good to me like you are, Remy. I remember how you would always bring me gifts from the swamp. I miss those gifts so much, Remy. I miss the sweet smell and sticky blood. But I miss the bones most of all. When I think about how smooth they felt against my skin, it makes my heart ache.

Grandmother always told me that the smartest charm-makers always use bone when they want to make really special talismans. She was right, of course. Remy, I've made things that you can only dream about. With these' hands, I've made charms so powerful that just being near them would make lesser people tremble in fear. But not anymore. I haven't made something like that in a long while. Ever since you left, I've had to settle for whatever stones and feathers I can find out in the marshes. I'm not strong like you are. You know that my eyes are no good, Remy. I need you to be here for me. I need you to be my eyes. There's no one else in this godforsaken place that would do that for me.

Remember when we first met, Remy? I still go to that lonely little junkyard sometimes. I sit there and carve my talismans and look out at the bayou. That place brings back such fond memories for me. Remember when we used to play there together? You were always so nice to me, even when the other children weren't. The girls were especially bad. I've never told you this before, but they would whisper things about me behind my back, when they thought I wasn't listening. They talked about how I didn't go to church on Sundays like they did, all dolled up in their pretty forspecial dresses. They called me a witch and threw rocks at me. Isn't the just awful, Remy?

All of this must be so hard for you to read, Remy. I know that it must fill your heart with pain to know that I was tortured so, but I hope you realize now how badly I need you to be here with me. The people here hate me, except when they need a special rock to make them feel luckier or a clump of magic feathers to make some slut fall in love with them. They'll probably kill me soon, if you're not here to protect me. They'll drown me in the swamp, just like they did to Grandma. Remember when we pulled her body out of the pond? Remember how her eyes were glazed over, how blue her lips looked? That will probably be what I look like soon if you don't come back quickly.

All those long years ago, in the junkyard, when you promised that you'd bring me any pretty things you found in the swamp, I thought I could trust you. I thought that you would never leave me. So why did you? Why did you leave me here alone to suffer? Do you hate me now, Remy? Please, don't hate me like those awful little girls. I know you're better than that, dear. If you come back, I promise that I'll make you something really special. I'll make you a pretty little gift, carve from the bones of a bear and marked with the old letters of our ancestors. Whenever you hold it, it'll remind you of me, and you'll be happy. So please, won't you come home to me, Remy?

With the best of wishes, your dearest friend,