She never had any friends, but that wasn’t her fault. Really. She had tried to make her home inviting: a wide entryway was left open and a breeze flowed through day and night. She had chosen to live in a rather central location after a terrible storm destroyed her last beautiful but secluded home; living in higher-population areas granted more shelter from all of the additional structures as well as the possibility of an easier transition post-catastrophe if it were to happen again. This new location had lots of pedestrian traffic, and she hoped that would aid her in encouraging strangers to drop by for a quick bite. She had a lovely garden now, one that spread all along the back and sides of her home, filled with beautiful flowers and plants that were meant to attract attention. They were certainly effective at doing so, but any pedestrians that approached to admire the landscaping still gave her a wide berth.
She preferred the cooler evenings to daytime, though, which probably deterred even more visitors. Most of the company she preferred kept normal daytime hours, preferring to bask in the warmth of the sun. She, however, was far more alert and able to entertain the later it got; it would have been far easier if she could just manage to get up in the mornings, but nothing was ever quite so easy.
She supposed that if she were truly honest with herself and her situation, the problem of the lack of visitors lie in that visitors that did come to her door disappeared, never to be seen again, never to return to their families. She never offered an explanation. She never would; she would never do anything to deter the visitors she so desperately sought.
On rare occasion, someone would drop by. Often, they approached out of curiosity, and would stay for hours. She tidied her home after every visitor, making sure everything was put exactly back where it should be and perfectly arranged for the next encounter. She took great pride in the hand-woven rugs she had made all by herself, guided by some natural instinct to create something beautiful. She expected perfection from herself and every minute aspect of her home, though never imposed that same expectation on others; that wouldn’t be fair and it certainly wouldn’t encourage anyone to drop by; instead, it would only serve to compound her plight of loneliness.
She never spoke to her family, which had added to that gnawing emptiness. She had left home early, but not by choice; her mother had essentially abandoned her and her siblings as children to the cold, with only the howling wind to keep them company. She separated from the rest early on, for feeding one was far easier than feeding all. Circumstances as they were dictated that she never saw them again. She grew up fast, as was required by her life’s situation, often barely scraping enough food together to survive the week. The loneliness grew fiercer every evening, burning her up inside.
She had had children once; she’d hoped that babies would help fill the void. Her suitor, however, had met a rather abrupt and violent end and left her pregnant and alone. With no examples from a real mother on how to raise children, she had ultimately left them to fend for themselves just as her mother had done to her and her siblings. If she was honest, the desertion had been just as natural as the need for company, which made no sense. Potential suitors would drop by on occasion, and sometimes she would entertain the idea of letting them stay awhile, but felt that it was too soon after her first experience with children to try again.
Okay, so maybe it was that she was disturbed by her first lover’s end. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but she vaguely remembered looking down at him after, as he lay in her bed, a lifeless, hollow shell of what he had once been. He’d been handsome, and maybe that was what had driven her to do it – to slaughter him in a fit of emotion that she still didn’t understand. His beauty didn’t deserve to exist while such ugly feelings raged inside her. As she became more aware of how bad the whole scene must look, she found herself dragging his hollow body out to the overgrown area behind her home and leaving it there to rot. Even in death, he was beautiful; his corpse had served to fertilize the lovely garden, perpetuating its healthy, colourful blooms.
In the dim moonlight, she gazed at the pile of bodies behind her home, hidden from view of any passers-by. She crept back to the bed hidden away near the entrance to the garden, a nice little cocoon woven into the home she’d perfected, forever alone.