Filename: CHILD.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 20:45 on 12/18/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>>

"This poem and the following one were written by a distraught mother upon losing her child to HIM about three months ago. Both her and the child saw HIM but only the child was taken. Shortly after sending the poems to me through email, the mother (who wished to remain nameless) announced her intent to commit suicide. She couldn't live with the pain of losing her only son. Since I never got a response to any messages sent after that, I can only presume she followed through on the thought. - E"

<<opening attachment: CHILD.TXT>>

The Child and The Operator

I have a very bestest friend
That only plays with me –
He likes to hide in dark places
That only I can see.

He’s really, really quiet.
He’s very, very tall.
He doesn’t like to talk much, ‘cause
He has no face at all.

I met him in the forest once.
He likes where there are trees.
He watches while I sleep at night –
I don’t know how he sees.

He’s really, really skinny.
He likes to wear a suit.
My best friend doesn’t scare me though.
I think that he is cute.

He doesn’t like adults at all,
But you might be okay.
I was just going to see him soon –
Would you like to come and play?

<<end transcript.>>