Another Drabble Wednesday and three more drabbles. Enjoy.
One step, two steps.
The girl skips lightly down the lane, her infectious grin framing her face. She waves at everyone she passes, her pigtails bobbing, her feet never missing a beat. The skirt of her pinafore dress swings in time with the rhythm of her gait, and she is the picture of innocence personified.
Yet, in her wake, people stagger and fall, hearts slowing, lungs shrivelling. They stumble to the sidewalk coughing blood, collapse in the yards, choking on their own bile. And all the dead have a smile plastered on their faces, a mirror of the little girl.
“Shh, get out of my head.” He murmured the words under his breath.
Now you don’t want that. I know you want to listen.
“No, get out of my head.”
You want to hurt them, you know you do.
His breath hissed, “No, no.”
Just take the knife out of your pocket. Stab them.
“No, be quiet.” Yet, his fingers tighten around the weapon.
Stab them. Make them all pay. One quick thrust.
He shook his head, but the knife slid out of his pocket.
That’s it, stab them, make the blood flow. Kill them all.
He smiled and nodded.
Faint gouges showed in the wood: furniture legs, the moulding, the bottom of the stair banisters. Not deep, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. The lady of the house laughed whenever someone remarked on them.
“Oh, just our pets having fun.”
Then, most times, she would artfully change the subject and the conversation would continue. Yet, ever so often, when someone asked about the scratches, she’d reply, “Oh, rambunctious pets you know. Would you like to meet them?”
Polite guests would nod and smile, never guessing their fate. More scratches would appear soon after, scraped into the wood by human fingernails.
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