JasmineRiddle

By Jasmine Riddle Blood. Everywhere the crimson liquid sticks to the old polished bamboo flooring. Every step that is taken the floor boards creak. The movement of the trees creates creatures on the wall. The wind bellows inside the window making the drapes flutter in the chilling breeze. The moon shines in casting a pale glow over something sickly-looking. A hand is forever locked reaching out for help that was never there. As the goddess of the night slowly sinks down, the figure becomes clearer. Coated in liquid life-line a girl is captured in the position of her final hour. Onyx eyes convert into lackluster black with the call of de