The woman in peach

3 2 0
                                    


Hide me, spare me, save me, don't speak, don't move. He whispers as we hide under my bed from a woman in a peach wedding gown. She stands at the foot of my bed as we hold our breaths and keep ourselves from moving. We've heard that this woman is fond of taking her victims' heads and leaving pieces of their bodies wherever their clothing is kept. Her gown looks new despite its many tears and its blood-soaked bottom half. I realize something as my nose overcomes the rusty smell of the many layers of blood. The gown smells like candy.

Short Stories (reconstructed)Where stories live. Discover now