Peter Inglenook

I have started writing.
The first few days were the most difficult. First I had to remember the letters that formed me. I remembered them bit by bit - it was tedious, it was tiring. And I could not stay at it for long times, since I had to be ready for him whenever he came back.
But finally I managed. After remembering myself four times in a row, I finally didn't forget anymore.
And I started writing.
I know I have to be careful to hide it well. So I peel off the paper with my fingertips until they bleed. The red sap makes a beautiful ink - he would notice if I used his ink bottle. He is very observant. So I draw red lines on yellow paper, drop by humble drop.
Each letter seems to take forever. So far I have managed three.
I hope that one day I will have filled every wall in this house with my name, every window, every door.
Until that day, whenever I hear him come home, I start chewing the paper strips until they are soaking wet and I glue them back on and they always fit nicely. What remains is a red gleam shimmering through. He never notices.