Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Darkness shrouded the dark sky, moonlight casting eerie shadows across the hard stone floor. Screams cried out, louder, louder, filling the air with fear and fright.
Blackness, darkness, lost and gone, inky black shadows drifting through the night.
Hope is lost, joy is gone, no one’s here to hear you cry. Smiles are crazy, laughter hazy, the endless question- why, why, why?
A darkened figure slinks in the shadows, sinister, sly and sleek. Quick light steps, stepping fast, soft and cold as the dead night’s sky.
Quiet, quiet, here he comes, his breath the only tattle tale sign. He vows to take a soul to night, they prey “God don’t let it be mine…”
——-Death will catch us, catch us soon, and not all of us has a pink balloon——–
A young girl sits in a swing under a sycamore tree, golden hair splaying out from her head. Rosy cheeks, cheeky grin- everything a sweet child should be. Innocence, radiance, childlike traits- unaware of what is soon to happen….what is soon to become of her life.
A pink balloon is clutched in her fist, shining dully against the late night air. Her parents would worry, franticly search for her. And though they may recover the body, her soul would be lost forever…
The shadows creep- here he is! He stalks the silent night. A pink balloon, clutched in her palm, locked in his blackened sight.
Slowly, slowly, stepping forth, towards the creaky swing. And as he steps he takes a moment to hear her quiet voice sing.
“The rain may fall, the sun may die, but all will be well soon…
As long as I don’t bleed too fast, I’ll have my pink balloon
And if I bleed out slowly…until the edge of noon…
I’ll know in my slowly beating heart, I’ll have my pink balloon…”
A smirk curled up on the thin lips as he stepped towards the angels voice, the soft melody drifting out into the night sky as he crept ever closer.
“And when I rip your lungs from you, and make your veins go boom, and when I slit your heart from you, you’ll have your pink balloon…”
His voiced hissed through the silent air, hitting her ear with a silent blow.
The swing froze as the girl heard the hissing mockery of the song her grandmother sang her as she presented the balloon, fear stinging in the depth of her heart at the hissing rasp merely inches from the back of her tender neck.
A cool metallic blade slid across her pale skin, leaving a cold line that soon filled with boiling hot blood, warming her frozen stature.
The balloon remained clutched tightly in her fists, her nails digging in to her supple flesh, blood dribbling down as she remained frozen at the fear of this man.
“You’re soul shall die, you will not cry, as I have taken all from you…and soon my dear, oh soon my child, you’ll have no pink balloon…” he snarled the last part into he small ear, the knife digging into her back, tearing the skin with ease, the point of the blade pressing into her spine, her nerves giving a spasm, sending her to the ground with a squeal.
Her body lay paralysed on the ground, hardened by the bitter cold. Blood seeped from her wound, tainted the ground with a ruby gleam, life dribbling slowly from her back, balloon still held in her fist.
Down again the knife went; this time into her eye. The soft flesh eyeball gave way to the slashing blade, mangled veins and blood misting together, sliding from her socket and down her little cheek, hanging horrifically from a single vein.
He took her small arm, held it up, and looked into her frightened eyes. No sound escaped her tender mouth as he dug into the skin, tracing the line of her veins from the crook of her elbow, to the shaking end of her wrist.
Her throat was locking, her body shocked, no sign of screaming out- though in her heart and soul she screeched, knowing she was dead- no doubt.
But out poured her ruby life, down dribbled the endless blood, staining her innocent face, tainting her small fragile self.
And on he went in a gruesome way, as if a surgeon of fine precision. Slicing, cutting, hacking, popping- getting every bit of her liquefied life he could out of her small body.
And as her eyes glazed over, up to the silent moon
He said softly into her ear:
”You’re dead; you’re gone, forever lost…
But you have your pink balloon…”