Another Short Intro Just for You!

Well kids, here is another little blerb that I wrote a while back. This doesn't have a story attacted to it, I just woke up one day and felt compelled to write something! Enjoy!

Crimson Moon

 

She stared out the open window.

The cool breeze swept through her long, scarlet hair.

She could feel the little hairs on her arms stand up as a fury of goose bumps ravaged her body.

The adrenalin pumped slowly through her veins as she looked up at the bright full moon.

Memories flashed across her vision of being a little girl, picking apples in the orchard with her grandmother.

“Now remember, my child,” her grandmother would always say. “Never compromise. If you want something in life, work hard and achieve it. Don’t let anyone stand in the way.”

A small tear rendered her blind for a moment as it prepared for his plunge down her face.

Funny, she thought, that she should think of the old woman at a time like this, the eve of her wedding day.

She scratched her neck. The coarse material was already starting to irritate her.

Her betrothed was to arrive in the morning for the ceremony. It was rumored that he would gallantly ride into the village on horseback, storm the castle, say “I do” and sweep her off her feet and into the sunset.

She smirked to herself.

Not likely.

She looked down at her feet dangling off the window ledge.

“Don’t do that honey,” her mother would nag. “It’s not safe!”

She, of course, wouldn’t obey.

She never did.

“I guess that’s the problem,” she sighed as she brushed her cheek, which was still pink and tender from the argument she just had with her mother.

She would obey this time.

“Go make yourself fresh and presentable for the Barron,” her mother commanded.

And she would.  

She pulled her feet back onto the windowsill so she was in a crouching position.

Her hair whipped across her face as she began to undress from her nightgown.

She placed a torn veil over her face and slid her garter up her thigh.

She then placed the engagement ring on a chain and hung it down by her breasts.

Her nude, white body seemed to gleam in the pale moon light.  

“I’ll show them, I’ll show them all!” she shrieked into the open air. “Set me up with an arranged marriage, will you? Ha! I will never settle! Never!”

Goose bumps encased her body and her hands began to shake violently.

She let loose a howl of laughter.

She looked up at the horizon and saw a small light in the distance.

It was her prince charming.

“This is for you, Grandmother! I’ll give that Barron a presentation he will never forget!”

She plucked a silver knife from the table behind her and carved out two vertical lines on her cheeks. The warm blood flowed from the wounds and down her cold, white body.

She sighed as the searing iron sent shockwaves through her nerves.

She then sliced through the flesh under her arms and legs, sending a crimson rain onto the drawbridge below.

She felt a shiver go up her spine as she let out another cry of manic laughter and dived into the air.

The light of the full moon guided her decent, until the rope snapped taunt, silencing her cries of glee.

But, not the crooked smile that painted her face.

Her veil swept to the right side of her face, revealing a solid black eye that stared at the full moon, forevermore.

Virgo's Garden Opening

“Five... Four... Three... Two... one!” the child shouted in anticipation. “Ready or not guys! Here I come! I will find youuu!!!” She pushed herself off of the large, oak tree, where she was counting, and raced across the large patch of green earth and into the dark trees beyond.

The cold autumn wind danced across the grass and tore at the leaves in the trees sending their lonely song across the Garden. The sun had already begun to set when the children decided to play one last round of hide-and-seek. The Home was only two blocks away. It wouldn’t take long at all.

Not long at all.

            The little girl ran across a wooden bridge with cast-iron railing; the sting of the coming frost stabbed at her fingers as she brushed them along the metal. She looked down the trail, which was enclosed in a long pavilion of roses and honeysuckle, their scent riding the waves of cold wind. The shadows had already engulfed most of the trail, the fine hairs on her arm began to rise, and she knew in her stomach not to go down there.

            Don’t touch the darkness.

            She turned around and ran the opposite direction, goosebumps rose up on her skin, and she just knew there were eyes watching her, watching her every move. Her throat began to tighten and the panic began to rise up in her chest. She felt as if she could run as fast as her cat, Mr. Claudius. She looked back over her shoulder, her curly, red hair whipped across her face; the shadows were crawling towards her.

            Run!

            She raced up the trail and back out of the line of trees and into the safety of the meadow. She would just wait for her friends to get tired of hiding and come find her here. She didn’t want to be the seeker anyway. She slowly approached the tree where she had counted just moments before, wiping the tears from her eyes with her olive green scarf. She wasn’t crying. Big girls didn’t cry. It was the cold wind of course. Just the wind.

What was that?

            A red balloon bobbed up and down just to the right of the tree. She didn’t remember that being there. She walked up to it, fascinated. She reached in her little purse, and pulled out a magic marker.

            “You need a face,” she said tenderly as she reached up to sketch a happy face across the rubber surface. She had already made a new friend, maybe this evening wasn’t so bad after all. 

            “What are you doing?” a voice behind her demanded. The girl jumped and spun around.

            A small boy, about her age, was glaring at her. He fine, blonde hair was flying in the wind, his cheeks were rosy from the cold and he wore the most peculiar tweed suit. It looked like it was out of a fairytale.

            “What are you doing to my balloon?” he asked again.

            The little girl stammered. “I thought he would look quite handsome with a face,” she replied.

            The little boy looked thoughtfully up at his toy. “You do know you’re never going to get out of here, right?”

            “What are you talking about?” she asked.

            “You are trapped in here,” he said again, not making eye contact, “like me. Like all of us. Trapped.”

            Trapped.

            “What are you talking about weirdo?” she said. “If I don’t go back to the Home, the old Miss will surly come looking for me.”

            “You will never be found again,” the boy said calmly.

          “Well,” she was getting rather uneasy now, “My friends will come. They are just in the trees, waiting for me.” She puffed out her chest to look tough.

            “They will surely be dead by now,” the little boy looked across the meadow.

            A scream sliced through the cold air.

            “Ah,” said the boy, “I guess it will be just us for supper.”

            The little girl backed up against the tree, the panic was rising up over her again. She could feel the tingles start at the top of her head and trickle down her face and spine. She tried to search for something behind her back; something to hold onto, a weapon, she didn’t know. Anything.

            The cries of the children in the woods continued. They were like the song of a crow, sharp and terrible, screaming through the night air, never breaking, never ceasing.

            While the little girl had been distracted by the balloon and the boy, she didn’t notice the sun making its last appearance on the earth, before dropping down into the night sky. The shadows had caught up with her. They twisted and tangled themselves up around her legs and crawled up her tiny frame.

            She tried to call out for help. She reached out for the boy, but he just stood there, looking down at his feet.

            The girl could feel herself being forced down in to the darkness. She tried to hold her breath, as the shadows pressed in around her, her lungs disobeyed and she let out a shrill scream that joined in harmony with that of her friends. The darkness opened a hole in the earth and she fell through, sealing itself on top of her.

            Averting his eyes away from the dark stop in the earth, the little boy reached up and grabbed his balloon.

            “At last,” he whispered, “We have another one.”

            The now old man chuckled to himself, “At last.”