My village never trusted the forest. The children were told not to go in and to never ever go past the trees. When hunters went, they would always bring a gun or something sharp. I really don’t believe in curses or witchcraft, never anything like that. But, I do believe in people. People can be scarier and crueler than monsters and curses.

One autumn, when leaves began to fall and had turned into colors other than green, a child went missing. One little girl, little Daisy, was always scared, telling adults about her strange dreams, and always by her mother’s side. The whole village, including me, went to search for her. Calling her name over and over, until their throats start to hurt. They couldn’t find her, sadly, only a dirty shoe, and mud tracks that were too small for a man and too crooked for a deer.

All around the village, there were rumors. “Could it be a wolf?” “No, it got to be a ghost, maybe something with teeth”. Villagers started to lock their doors with extra locks, people began to nail wood onto their windows, they were scared and afraid, of course. Who wants to be taken or their child to be missing?

I was calm. Someone had to be calm, of course, or it would be too much of a chaos. I listened to their worries, they told me their fears, their stories. I gathered them all and like carrying treasures in my pocket. Soon, more and more children disappear, one by one. Each time, villagers would cry or even mourn. Their cries began louder, and their searches became wilder. I was always there, of course, comforting them and patiently listening to them. I really did.

It’s strange, seeing all their hope crumble, I can see in their eyes, despair, maybe revenge. Still, I became their comfort person. I quietly spoke to them with patience. What they trusted the most was when I said that if they worked harder and prayed harder, their little ones might come back to their warm arms. They trusted me and believed my words. Words can be important and powerful. Words can be almost as powerful as silence.

Silence, silence is what I give to the children. When they cried when I took them, I hushed them with a lullaby or a nice story. Children always love stories. I also gave them a bit of a promise. The village never trusted the forest, and so they should never have trusted me either.