Read Naked, on the Edge for Free Online

standing by the empty bookshelf with his face pressed against the slat of one shelf. His eyes were closed. Susanne and William were still asleep, or trying to be asleep. Margarette was making play shadows in the gray, rain-shrouded light on the attic floor.
    The door opened and Greta came in, wearing a smile and a yellow dress with big front pockets. She did not push the door shut, but stood in the center of the room and put her hands on her hips. The friends moved quickly to their circle spots.
    "A new lesson and a new friend today!" Greta said. She smiled individually at each friend on the floor. Her hair was in yellow ribbons. "First the new friend! Michael!"
    The friends looked at the partially ajar door. They saw tentative movement, and then a small boy was standing in the doorway. He was no more than five. His dark eyes huge and numbed.
    "He was to go with his mother, but my father brought him to me! My father is a good man to do this for us. Michael, sit with the others. We have many lessons in the circle. Susanne, make room there for Michael."
    The little boy did not move. Greta's smile faltered.
    Margarette said, "Michael, come sit with me." She patted the floor. Michael shuffled to her, and she eased him down. Margarette touched his hair as if in apology.
    "I have a new lesson today," said Greta. She sat on her chair. "The selfishness yesterday was a surprise to me, though father would say I shouldn't be surprised. And so today the lesson is learning to give. I have given to you many things, and unselfishly so. Today you will learn to give to me."
    No one spoke. The bird outside the window, far away in its tree beneath the rain, changed tunes from bluebird to wren to starling.
    Greta pulled a revolver from one deep dress pocket. She made a sweeping circle, pointing it in turn at each of the friends. Then she trained it on Joseph. "You were very selfish yesterday. Ah, such a bad boy you were, Joseph. I could have my father take you away but I’ve decided there is still a chance for you to become good. Today you will learn to be good. You will learn to be unselfish. I want you to give me something you treasure."
    Joseph's good eye blinked at the revolver.
    Greta then took a small white-handled pistol from her other pocket. She smiled and held it out to Joseph.
    "Take it," said Greta.
    Joseph's lips twisted into a silent, numbed grimace.
    "Take it," Greta said.
    Joseph took the pistol.
    Greta said, "Give me who you love most, and I will forgive your selfishness."
    Joseph stared at the pistol. His hand did not shake. "Give me who you love most," said Greta. She nodded at the revolver in her own hand. "And if I think you want to turn it on me, if it even looks as if you are thinking of turning it on me, I will use this on everyone here. Now, give me your treasure."
    Joseph turned the gun toward his face and lowered his mouth to the barrel.
    "Ha!" Greta barked, leaning over and smacking Joseph on the side of his head. "You don't love yourself! Look again. I know your silly little heart, boy, and know what you love. You cannot fool me. And if you act in correctly, all here will suffer for your stupidity."
    Joseph looked around the room. His good eye batted crazily, as if a gnat had gotten inside. Then, he raised the gun to Margarette, across from him in the circle.
    Greta clapped her free hand to her cheek. "Yes! Give me who you love most."
    Joseph did not pull the trigger.
    Greta said, "If you don't give her to me, I will kill her and then Anna and William and Susanne and you. My father sees hundreds just like you every day. I can watch from my bedroom window what goes on beyond our house, beyond the high fence. Many silly, weeping children are sent off with their parents, passed over by my father and gone in the blink of an eye. There are more friends if I need them. More than would fit here in the attic. I can have as many as I want. There are always more of you to be found under any stone."
    Joseph slipped his finger