Oh man.
When I posted the photos of two creepy children on Monday and asked you to build on one another’s story in the comments I figured we’d get something good. I had no idea it would be this awesome.
No, seriously. I put all of your comments together and read it over. I was like:
Also, I’d really like to read more of this book. We may have to continue this at a later date because WHERE ARE THEY TAKING HER? WHO ARE THESE KIDS?
Ahem. Anyway, I just wanted to say Go You! What an beautifully written story you’ve created.
So here’s the story. Enjoy!
They know when you’re going to die.
They’ve always known it. Since the moment you were ripped from your mother’s uterus, screaming as a rush of air hit your lungs for the first time. They knew when the baby in the next room would die, too. That’s what they do.
Don’t ask how. That’s part of the magic. It has nothing to do with how they look you in the eye, staring with leaden pupils like they can see your soul. It has nothing to do with how they rest a hand on your shoulder, either, a snow white palm against your skin. They do all these things to amuse themselves. It is part of a show, a performance, a production of falsities.
Their voices are like the first snow, a shock of cold, a whisper weight that soaks into the skin. You don’t want to hear them, but even when you shut your eyes, focus on the roaring in your ears, the words ice your blood.
They don’t need to speak to each other.
They don’t need to speak to each other.
I have never seen them until now. Today is the day I die and they wait for me. My lungs gasp for air, my skin feels icy and my heart thumps, still trying to fight. My heart does not realize what I did when I glanced at them. I know I reached the end. I am only 16 and the eerie creatures are taking me where they always knew I belonged.
The horned girl leans against my leg and a cold breeze tickles my ankle. She beckons me with one raised finger. I swallow hard, even as I lean toward her.
“Midnight,” she whispers.
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