Maybe

Maybe was such a word. A word that was looked down upon, but a word so frequent. Maybe was inconsistent. Maybe was something no one wanted to hear, but heard so often. Maybe was a staggering, unsteady creature, with an air of indecisiveness. Maybe was a creature that didn’t know.

Maybe was what watched the Salem witch without clear judgement. Maybe the witch was innocent, but Maybe it was not.. Maybe was a creature that didn’t know if it would speak up or stay silent. Maybe was a creature that couldn’t choose pink or blue. But Maybe, Maybe was what watched as the lamp didn’t die, after the witch was tried unfair, brought to the river, and met death as a torrent of flame. And Maybe, Maybe was what had watched the witch die with knowledge that this was wrong.

But Maybe was just a word. A word that was looked down upon, but a word so frequent.

But Maybe… is a thing that can walk. A thing that can breathe. A thing that can prowl and snarl and sneer. A thing that can run and smile and grin. A thing that can scream and yell and cry and sing. A thing that can be happy and sad and fearful and mad.

A thing that can walk away from the river, lacking gold and silver, and not wallow in thoughts of those that died.

Maybe is a creature that could feel. A creature that could hear. A creature that could smell, that could taste, that could see. Maybe is a creature that doesn’t need to decide on pink or blue, and instead chooses both. Maybe is a creature that may take time to decide, but comes to a decision regardless.

Maybe is a monster.