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~The Ballad of Mona Lisa~
Like music to her ears, the screams of the innocent sent her to cloud nine. One would never see her smile, for it was barely there. The empty bottles of whiskey laid on the empty blood soaked bed, and she immediately got to work on her latest victim.
The wicked cruelty of the situation didn't seem to bother her, then again, why would it? It's nothing new. With each cut and slash, she felt herself react with more pleasure and urge. She couldn't stop, no matter what the consequences.
Her face made of delicate porcelain, and innocent eyes, made them all ignorant to her true nature. They also, combined with forever plastered expression, earned her the nickname Mona Lisa.
"You know what they say about her don't you?" She asked him, knife in her hands, her sickly sweet voice trembled with rage. He stared up into her eyes.
"Please don't do this..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Answer me!" She barked, her sweet voice turned cold and heartless.
"I don't know," he managed.
"They call her ugly, she's unappreciated, all she ever hears is 'Why would he paint her?' She doesn't even smile." She laughed sadisticly. "But who's going to suffer because of it? Not her. Not me. But you." She laughed again.
His eyes frantically searched hers. He choked on his words and his body trembled.
"Please don't do this, ple-" The knife plunged ino his heart.
"Those were very weak last words my dear, but they were like music to my ears. A ballad." She smiled and pulled the knife out forcefully. Her smile widened.
She pierced the cold flesh, and smiled at her work.
She placed the newly harvested
souvenir in the cupboard.
She dumped him in the river down the road.
Forever she'd have them, all of the lips, that ever sang, the ballad of Mona Lisa.
