Please read and tell me what you think. If you see everything wrong with the story, please tell me! Thanks! :]
She had been dead for six days now, or so he thought. But there she was, standing in front of him, breathing out the cold air in little whirls of smoke then breathing in. A smile began to itch in the corners of his mouth; pale, blond hair that fell gracefully down her back, curling at the ends and her periwinkle eyes sparkling like the stars, lighting up her pale skin. Her rosy lips, full called out to him, like he always imagined they did.
He bent down closer to those lips and whispered, “I’ve missed you my love.” And he kissed those lips, finding them colder than usual. He pulled back and thought he saw her smile a shy smile. Taking a hold of her cold, albicant hand, he led her to the park where he first saw her willowy splendor. “Where have you been?” he asked, excitement pumping through his veins at the touch of her skin.
A voice of whispering dead leaves blowing across the pavement entered his head. “Lost.” He casted a sideways glance at her.
“Lost?” he questioned. She looked at the side of his face in silence. He responded with a shrug of the shoulders and then took her hand into his, pulling her along. The girl eyed the pavement, its cracked faults becoming uglier the farther they walked.
“Here we are.” he said, stopping in front of a worn-out wooden bench clothed in pastel green moss. “Do you remember this spot?” She tilted her head slowly, periwinkle eyes clouded in puzzlement, but when she looked up at him, it was without expression. “Of course you do.” he said, taking her silence as an agreement. “This is where we first met. Those were such happy moments.” Fear slipped into the girl’s eyes quickly then drained out in a single tear. He noticed the tear and took it as happiness and bliss. He smiled down at her small figure.
“I will always love you.” he said, something cold and monstrous stirring in his voice. The girl took a slow step back and he took no notice. Taking a hold of her icy, soft hand again, feeling the tingle of excitement once more, he led her deeper into the woods of the park.
The girl kept her eyes on the impassive pavement as the man lead her away. Then the sound of swift feet on concrete brought her eyes up. It was a boy with red hair that matched the autumn leaves about them. Sweat tickling down his face even in the cold weather. His shirt adhered to him like a second skin, drawing out his toned body. His freckled arms pumped the air in fluid movements. He was running towards them and the girl beheld him with hopeful eyes, a plead for help and the man witnessed this. But he jogged past, a tickle of wind against the girl’s pale cheek. The man stiffened his grip on the girl’s hand and stopped, thinking the girl was admiring the boy.
“Am I not good enough for you?” he probed, irritation burning the tip of his tongue. He challenged the girl and held her thin arms in his large hands. Her periwinkle eyes widened and her pale, rosy lips grew paler. He shook her slender body, his lips dragged back in a snarl.
“Tell me now!” he shrieked, saliva teasing the corner of his lips. The girl looked down, and when she looked up, terror no longer trembled in her icy eyes. The man stopped shaking her, but kept a grip of her arms. She regarded him, coldness swimming in her pale eyes.
“Do you remember this spot?” she inquired, her voice of whispering dead leaves raging across the pavement entering his head. “Of course you do.” The man let go of her, taking a dawdling step back. And the girl observed this, and she smirked at it, such a cold, pale smile.
She took a step towards him, placing one tiny hand on his pumping red cheek. The man inhaled deeply, electrified by the soft touch of her fingertips and she started to dig; nudge her greying fingernails into his flesh. He screeched, agony filling his body and he went to double over in pain, but she held him in place. His vision started blacking out and in place, a new one started. He was looking through someone else’s eyes and he sensed panic; so much terror. He saw someone, rushing after him and was soon caught. The thick breathing and teary whispers of a girl filled the air; then he realized it was him who cried out to the attacker.
“Please, please stop.” He was driven to the ground, punched up until his vision twisted and blurred. He raised his hands up, noticing how tiny and pale they were all covered in blood and begged, shaking his head from side to side. He felt his clothes scratched off and the frosty air bit into his skin. He could feel bruises forming on his cheeks and a coopery taste flooded his mouth and consumed his tongue. A cracked rib probed his lung; he tried to breathe, breathe and then, undesirable pleasurable pain hit him down low.
“No!” he screamed, lips cracked and burning and the trees around him echoed it back in mockery. No! No! He swore he could hear laughter, little fits of giggles from children, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of them. But what he could see finally, was the face of the attacker. Two pairs of dull eyes pressed into doughy skin. Thin lips caught in a rare leer that is attached to a boring, plain face. He saw himself and then all was dim. He fell to his knees scratching them up as little streams of crimson ran down his left cheek. He looked up into the face of the girl and saw judgment passing through those periwinkle eyes. Her fists quivered in rage.
“Do you remember?” she whispered.
The man hugged his hands over his ears, trying to keep the noise of the dead leaves out of his head, but it didn’t aid him. “You’re mad.” he said in a shaky voice.
The girl tilted her pale head to the side gradually, a smile dancing at the curves of her lips. “Am I?”
The man had no time to response as the girl took her cold, pale hands and burrowed deep into his chest. He howled in agony as his skin shredded at the little seams, like scissors running through fabric. Bits of flesh were caught in her fingernails and she kept digging and digging until she discovered it.
“I’m surprise you have one,” she said as the trees around them leaned in to watch as she gripped his bloody, pumping heart in her stone hand. She smiled into his boring eyes and squeezed, feeling the feverish heart go frozen in her tiny hands and the trees broke into rattling laughs, clapping their branches together amusement. She beamed when his eyes rolled into the back of his head, only the whites showing. She leaned over and kissed his dreary lips and looked up when she overheard the sound of feet smacking the pavement rapidly and beheld the redheaded boy sprinting back towards them.
The man woke up, sweat drenching him and covers soaking wet clung to him in a hot mess. He presses a shaky hand to his left cheek and traces the five fingernail indentions. He signs, staring through the bars that house him in the tiny cell block room. The dreary walls creep around him in a greying smirk and mockery. Every night, it’s the same nightmare over and over again. And every night, it’s the same white fox staring back at him through the chilly steel rods. And every time, it sneers; keeping her attacker alive, and suffering. She taps her long sharp nails on the tainted yellow tile, the sound of a clock ticking away and he pulls the covers over himself, caressing his left cheek. She howls, dead leaves flowing from her mouth and the man closes his eyes, pleading for sleep.
The following story is called, The Frog Princess, and I wrote it back in 2nd grade. I cracked up as I read while exclaiming to my gramma, “Did I really draw that bad?” I wrote it up exactly as I did back then, so there is horrible spelling and grammer. Gaspness!
I now know what my millionaire idea is! Purses. And outfits! It’s time for me to get back to my sewing hobby and stitch away to some major bucks! It probably won’t happen, but hey, I do wanna sew up my own purses and clothes! And maybe, just maybe, it’ll become a hit!
