[ WP ] You hear a baby crying out in the woods .

Last night I was was walking home from my babysitting job at the Meyer's. It was n't a long walk, but it was dark. 11 PM kind of dark. I like to take a path through the woods with my flashlight. This way I can stay away from the human dangers of the road ( hit and runs, abductions, you get the idea. ) 
 
 
 I hate leaving that job; hate the way it makes me feel afterward. An incurable sense of longing for children of my own always accompanies me home. I do n't feel whole when I'm not around children. Crossing my arms, I give myself a hug as I wonder what my life would be like if I never miscarried. People say being around kids keeps you young. Maybe having kids would keep me young forever. 
 
 At 21, my parents constantly encourage me to focus on college, an empowering career, etc., but my only passion has been children. I want to fill my life with them. Teacher, daycare worker, babysitting, I do n't care, *anything* to have those chubby little angles in my life. I love feeling their vibrant, young energy. It courses through me. Its the only time I feel alive. 
 
 I was about half way home when I heard the baby's cry. Some animals can mimic a human baby's cry when in danger. Being alone in the woods, I fought my instinct and kept walking in the opposite direction. The forrest does strange things to noise, though, and before I long I was actually walking toward it. Before I had a chance to comprehend the situation, I saw it. 
 
 `` Oh fuck.'' Guilt instantly overwhelmed me. `` That's an actual fucking baby.'' In a basket. What the hell? I looked around as I jogged to it; nothing raised any red flags. I stopped when I reached the baby in the basket. I looked around again, as thorough as I could with my pitiful light source. Still nothing. 
 
 I squatted down to examine the angel. The smell of the helpless baby was intoxicating. Pulling down the blanket revealed a note. Large, flowing letters formed this words: do not pick up this baby unless you are ready to give up everything for it, possibly even your life. 
 
 `` Not today,'' I said, tossing the note aside. I grabbed the baby by the throat with my left hand and ripped it out of the basket. I thrust it up above my head. My right hand flicked open my pocket knife as I withdrew it from my pocket. There was no more crying as I opened its abdomen wide and drank, drank, drank.
