It was late, she knew, but she had no car. Her footsteps tapped
evenly against the aging cobblestone streets. They echoed in the distance.
Above, a luminous moon shone brightly guiding and protecting all from harm.
The stubborn fading street lamp flickered, determined not to give out.
There weren't many people out this time of night. Only an occasionally cat,
dog or lonely beggar.
She held the beautiful colorful roses and posies in her hand. They were a gift for her sick mother who had taken a sudden illness just early this morning. The doctors said that she had caught an incurable disease that was spreading like the wind.
A gust of wind picked up and she could have sworn she heard the wind whisper to her.
"Come, play with me."
She cautiously looked around for the source of the voice. "
"Behind you,"
She slowly turned around and what she saw froze her very soul. There was a young girl who could've once been an adorable innocent one, but the demented features made her anything but adorable. She had hideous black dots all over her face; her once blond hair was white, ghost white. A foul odor emanated from her body.
"Play," she said, in an oxymoronic innocent voice.
The women slowly back away, "I'm sorry I must see my poor mother," she said making up an excuse.
"There's no need for that, for she'll look exactly like me, and you will too," the angelic voice said.
The older woman was shocked to hear this. "I'm sorry," she said again and swiftly turned around a walked away from the living nightmare.
"Ring around the rosy." The young girl sang eerily. Her eyes closed.
Her hand felt odd and tight. She lifted it up to find little red dots with a red circle around it, no it was a ring around the read dot. She tried to soothe herself by saying that it was probably a reaction the flowers.
"Pocket full of posies." The creepy voice said less angelic. Her faced grew more deformed, and more menacing.
A familiar foul odor came to her senses. It was the same disgusting odor from the little girl except this time it was coming from her. In order to conquer the fetid scent she held the posies to her nose to take a whiff of the sweet aroma.
"Ashes, Ashes," The innocent voice was no longer sweet but evil sounding. Her eyes fluttered open revealing orbs of a pit less black.
It became dark. The moon hid under a cloud and the stubborn street lamp had lost its fight. The protective moonlight was no more. The strong urge to sneeze overcame her. She did but blood came pouring out. She couldn't stop sneezing and the blood kept on pouring.
"We all fall," the sinister voice sang and crept into her thoughts like a knife scratching the chalkboard.
She couldn't take it anymore; she fell to her knees, spurting out blood. She collapsed on the cobblestone rolling in agony.
"Dead," the menacing voice boomed, she was no longer a little girl, but she was now engulfed in flames and took on the form of a greedy, merciless demon. The demon laughed in a sinister way and like a bullet shot through the women's head.
Her whole world went black and everything disappeared. The last thing to go through the young women's head was the little song that the supposedly little girl had sang and had brought the lady to her death.
The next morning there wasn't a trace of anything left, except for the posies and roses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ So. how was it. Read and review please. Constructive criticism is welcome.
I'm usually a poetry writer, I guess it shows.
She held the beautiful colorful roses and posies in her hand. They were a gift for her sick mother who had taken a sudden illness just early this morning. The doctors said that she had caught an incurable disease that was spreading like the wind.
A gust of wind picked up and she could have sworn she heard the wind whisper to her.
"Come, play with me."
She cautiously looked around for the source of the voice. "
"Behind you,"
She slowly turned around and what she saw froze her very soul. There was a young girl who could've once been an adorable innocent one, but the demented features made her anything but adorable. She had hideous black dots all over her face; her once blond hair was white, ghost white. A foul odor emanated from her body.
"Play," she said, in an oxymoronic innocent voice.
The women slowly back away, "I'm sorry I must see my poor mother," she said making up an excuse.
"There's no need for that, for she'll look exactly like me, and you will too," the angelic voice said.
The older woman was shocked to hear this. "I'm sorry," she said again and swiftly turned around a walked away from the living nightmare.
"Ring around the rosy." The young girl sang eerily. Her eyes closed.
Her hand felt odd and tight. She lifted it up to find little red dots with a red circle around it, no it was a ring around the read dot. She tried to soothe herself by saying that it was probably a reaction the flowers.
"Pocket full of posies." The creepy voice said less angelic. Her faced grew more deformed, and more menacing.
A familiar foul odor came to her senses. It was the same disgusting odor from the little girl except this time it was coming from her. In order to conquer the fetid scent she held the posies to her nose to take a whiff of the sweet aroma.
"Ashes, Ashes," The innocent voice was no longer sweet but evil sounding. Her eyes fluttered open revealing orbs of a pit less black.
It became dark. The moon hid under a cloud and the stubborn street lamp had lost its fight. The protective moonlight was no more. The strong urge to sneeze overcame her. She did but blood came pouring out. She couldn't stop sneezing and the blood kept on pouring.
"We all fall," the sinister voice sang and crept into her thoughts like a knife scratching the chalkboard.
She couldn't take it anymore; she fell to her knees, spurting out blood. She collapsed on the cobblestone rolling in agony.
"Dead," the menacing voice boomed, she was no longer a little girl, but she was now engulfed in flames and took on the form of a greedy, merciless demon. The demon laughed in a sinister way and like a bullet shot through the women's head.
Her whole world went black and everything disappeared. The last thing to go through the young women's head was the little song that the supposedly little girl had sang and had brought the lady to her death.
The next morning there wasn't a trace of anything left, except for the posies and roses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ So. how was it. Read and review please. Constructive criticism is welcome.
I'm usually a poetry writer, I guess it shows.