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Description
Come, come closer.  Closer still, for all I can do is whisper, lest They hear.  You do not want Them to hear what I have to say. They would never approve, They would grow irate with me.  I dislike Their anger, it hurts me in a way someone like you wouldn't even fathom.  I have a plan though, a plan to stop Them.  You see right now They will try to listen, and of course They can hear everything we say.  Don't turn your back, don't look for Them, it will do you little help.
They weren't always cruel, at first They were lovely.  They would share secrets about my neighbors with me, fun secrets.  Do you know of the old woman with snow hair?  Yes the one with two cats of grey and black.  She has a grandchild, who visits each Sunday after service.  Or of the couple in the blue shingled house?  They have no pets, no children, but they have a garden.  A garden of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  Yes those were the times They had helped me see that people were in fact good.
Soon however They began to show me things I didn't wish to see.  The old woman, she does not touch her grandchild like a Nana should, but rather as a lover.  The child is just a small girl, not even five.  Not even five. The man is not kind to his wife, not at all.  Each day I would watch her sit next to her cherub and pluck flowers, bruised eyes lacking a soul.  They showed me these things, these things I'd rather not know.
At first They would only show up, you see They didn't always talk.  Now of course they won't shut up.  Even as we speak They speak in incoherent murmurs.  Don't shake your head, you simply choose not to hear.  But soon they began to whisper more secrets in my ear, about the entire town.  None of these secrets involved gardens of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  None of these secrets involved children playing with their grandmothers.  Each night I would lay in my bed, and just listen to Them.  The grocer, he sells white powder to a young girl with raccoon eyes and blonde hair.  The Thompson's boy masquerades as a young girl each Wednesday night with the paperboy.  So much more They would tell me, too much more.
I begged Them to stop, to stop destroying each person I saw with the secrets.  They told me there was one way, one way to make it all quiet.  To forget the secrets.  I had Them write it down, here look, I have it with me.  Do not look so startled, if They had explained it to you I know you would agree as well.   Of course I protested.  Why would They want that?  I asked them, you see, I tried to find another way.  But They are smart, They told me that it was for their own well being.  That those people were destroying themselves, this would simply speed up the process.
The old woman was first, They said no one would care if someone of that age were to pass.  I had asked why I had to do it.  They said it was because I was chosen to by God.  With that I relented, after all one cannot refute Him.  I waited until the sun had gone out and her grandchild had left.  Her house was small, and very wooden.  Each time I stepped upon her floor They would reprimand me for being too noisy.  I reached her room, and saw her sleeping in her bed very soundly.  For a moment I had even thought that I was too late and Sir Death had already made his visit.  Until she shifted among the sheets and caused the springs inside her mattress to squeak.  They did not like that sound and began to wail, begging me to finish so that the sounds would stop.
There was no moon that night, only pinpricks of light in an otherwise black sky.  I loved the moon, her light fueling my dances in the middle of the night.  They do not, and of course convinced me to stop my midnight waltzes.  I finally reached her at the head of the bed.  They have excellent sight you see, and showed me each minute detail of her face.  So many lines, some light and others etched into her pasty skin.  She had no eyebrows and very milky teeth, which I could see between her parted lips.  And of course her hair, which was like snow.  Tendrils curled around her face.  I could see every strand that night, and I still can right now.  Do not think that impossible, if They were with you then you'd know.
I hesitated before doing it.  Within that pause I was assaulted by Them.  My head began to burn, my limbs went stiff, my breath short, and my eyes blind.  In my fit of panic I did it.  I brought it to her throat, the vegetable knife from my kitchen.  Her eyes shot open, but she couldn't scream.  They were too smart to afford any mistake, so They told me the secret to success.  I can't stand blood you see, makes me sick to my very core, but They love it.  So I was forced by Them to watch as the old women bled onto her duvet.  Her snow hair had become stained and no longer looked as elegant.  Shortly after I had breached her skin with my silver blade her life finished.
I had wanted to leave, but They said that we were not done.  See when she played with the little girl she used her fingers and her tongue.  Each time she did it the little girl, her grandchild, she would cry.  They told me that we had to burn them, so I cut them off the woman.  One finger had a ring with tarnished words, They told me to throw it away.  So I did, and that was that.  I left her house, and returned to mine, They followed of course.
Once inside my kitchen I slid the knife into the wooden block and turned my attention to the ten fingers and single muscle I had placed on my marble counter.  They told me to put them into the oven, and then to eat them, so I did.  Do not back away from me, you don't know how persuasive They can be.  I have no choice when it comes to Them, no choice.
The old woman had been first, and the others followed.  The husband with the garden of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  The grocer, the raccoon-eyed girl, the Thompson boy, and the paperboy, all of their secrets are gone.  Those are to name a few, there were more.  So much more and their secrets.  Once I saw the blood of each person I forgot their secret, and no longer felt anger towards Them for telling me.
They told me the condition was to get rid of each person and their secret.  After that I would be free, and They would go.  I have gotten each person, and each secret.  But I still hear Them.  Right now, right as I speak with you, They whisper to me.  They have told me one last thing.  A secret about you.

Description
Come, come closer.  Closer still, for all I can do is whisper, lest They hear.  You do not want Them to hear what I have to say. They would never approve, They would grow irate with me.  I dislike Their anger, it hurts me in a way someone like you wouldn't even fathom.  I have a plan though, a plan to stop Them.  You see right now They will try to listen, and of course They can hear everything we say.  Don't turn your back, don't look for Them, it will do you little help.
They weren't always cruel, at first They were lovely.  They would share secrets about my neighbors with me, fun secrets.  Do you know of the old woman with snow hair?  Yes the one with two cats of grey and black.  She has a grandchild, who visits each Sunday after service.  Or of the couple in the blue shingled house?  They have no pets, no children, but they have a garden.  A garden of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  Yes those were the times They had helped me see that people were in fact good.
Soon however They began to show me things I didn't wish to see.  The old woman, she does not touch her grandchild like a Nana should, but rather as a lover.  The child is just a small girl, not even five.  Not even five. The man is not kind to his wife, not at all.  Each day I would watch her sit next to her cherub and pluck flowers, bruised eyes lacking a soul.  They showed me these things, these things I'd rather not know.
At first They would only show up, you see They didn't always talk.  Now of course they won't shut up.  Even as we speak They speak in incoherent murmurs.  Don't shake your head, you simply choose not to hear.  But soon they began to whisper more secrets in my ear, about the entire town.  None of these secrets involved gardens of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  None of these secrets involved children playing with their grandmothers.  Each night I would lay in my bed, and just listen to Them.  The grocer, he sells white powder to a young girl with raccoon eyes and blonde hair.  The Thompson's boy masquerades as a young girl each Wednesday night with the paperboy.  So much more They would tell me, too much more.
I begged Them to stop, to stop destroying each person I saw with the secrets.  They told me there was one way, one way to make it all quiet.  To forget the secrets.  I had Them write it down, here look, I have it with me.  Do not look so startled, if They had explained it to you I know you would agree as well.   Of course I protested.  Why would They want that?  I asked them, you see, I tried to find another way.  But They are smart, They told me that it was for their own well being.  That those people were destroying themselves, this would simply speed up the process.
The old woman was first, They said no one would care if someone of that age were to pass.  I had asked why I had to do it.  They said it was because I was chosen to by God.  With that I relented, after all one cannot refute Him.  I waited until the sun had gone out and her grandchild had left.  Her house was small, and very wooden.  Each time I stepped upon her floor They would reprimand me for being too noisy.  I reached her room, and saw her sleeping in her bed very soundly.  For a moment I had even thought that I was too late and Sir Death had already made his visit.  Until she shifted among the sheets and caused the springs inside her mattress to squeak.  They did not like that sound and began to wail, begging me to finish so that the sounds would stop.
There was no moon that night, only pinpricks of light in an otherwise black sky.  I loved the moon, her light fueling my dances in the middle of the night.  They do not, and of course convinced me to stop my midnight waltzes.  I finally reached her at the head of the bed.  They have excellent sight you see, and showed me each minute detail of her face.  So many lines, some light and others etched into her pasty skin.  She had no eyebrows and very milky teeth, which I could see between her parted lips.  And of course her hair, which was like snow.  Tendrils curled around her face.  I could see every strand that night, and I still can right now.  Do not think that impossible, if They were with you then you'd know.
I hesitated before doing it.  Within that pause I was assaulted by Them.  My head began to burn, my limbs went stiff, my breath short, and my eyes blind.  In my fit of panic I did it.  I brought it to her throat, the vegetable knife from my kitchen.  Her eyes shot open, but she couldn't scream.  They were too smart to afford any mistake, so They told me the secret to success.  I can't stand blood you see, makes me sick to my very core, but They love it.  So I was forced by Them to watch as the old women bled onto her duvet.  Her snow hair had become stained and no longer looked as elegant.  Shortly after I had breached her skin with my silver blade her life finished.
I had wanted to leave, but They said that we were not done.  See when she played with the little girl she used her fingers and her tongue.  Each time she did it the little girl, her grandchild, she would cry.  They told me that we had to burn them, so I cut them off the woman.  One finger had a ring with tarnished words, They told me to throw it away.  So I did, and that was that.  I left her house, and returned to mine, They followed of course.
Once inside my kitchen I slid the knife into the wooden block and turned my attention to the ten fingers and single muscle I had placed on my marble counter.  They told me to put them into the oven, and then to eat them, so I did.  Do not back away from me, you don't know how persuasive They can be.  I have no choice when it comes to Them, no choice.
The old woman had been first, and the others followed.  The husband with the garden of lilac, snapdragons, and hydrangeas.  The grocer, the raccoon-eyed girl, the Thompson boy, and the paperboy, all of their secrets are gone.  Those are to name a few, there were more.  So much more and their secrets.  Once I saw the blood of each person I forgot their secret, and no longer felt anger towards Them for telling me.
They told me the condition was to get rid of each person and their secret.  After that I would be free, and They would go.  I have gotten each person, and each secret.  But I still hear Them.  Right now, right as I speak with you, They whisper to me.  They have told me one last thing.  A secret about you.