The Day They Killed My Easter Bunny

I remember the day my imagination was lost and my brothers laughed because they thought it so funny; tears and innocence being the ultimate cost when they killed, for me, the Easter Bunny. “You’re too old to believe in all of this stuff; its time you started acting your age”; My siblings had decided that I had enough as they turned over my childhood page. With chocolate stains on the front of my shirt and Easter eggs yet to be found, I did my best to cover up all of the hurt, hating the truth they were slinging around. It wasn’t just the end of a childish phase; It was more than destroying a mere fantasy; Somewhere in the mist of this confusing haze, was the realization - they had been lying to me. It wasn’t just the Easter Bunny they had slain; It wasn’t just Santa Claus they turned into dust; Destroyed holiday myths wasn’t the cause of my pain, it was a loss of faith in those that I trust. So, be careful when we tell me a tale, I am skeptical about accepting your truth; It is a lesson that I learned only too well, long ago in my forgotten youth.