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The Micro Short Story

She's Over there, starring right at me as I try to pick up the ball. Her bright white dress makes the night seem young. I can't see much about her due to the distance between us. Although the moon is fully out, the night is still not doing me any favors. "What are you doing over there child?" I ask as I try to get closer. I walk really slow as if I'm expecting imperiment. But yet not alarmed whatsoever. I throw the ball around while I'm at it. From the left to the right, from the right to the left. The closer I get I start realizing something. It makes me stop and wonder, "Is it my eyes or hers?". Hopefully it's mine, for the idea of her eyes looking like that petrifies me. Completely black simply describes them. Her dress seem somewhat translucent, a little wet I suppose. Whatever she did with her shoes. "What could she be doing in the woods barefoot?". There's a little red flower on her damped hair. Damped as if she just walked out of precipitation. Her skin is white like paper. She makes a terrifying sound while she picks her left hand up to try and point at me as she opens her mouth. Almost as if she is trying to reveal a certain detail. It's the sound one would make if they were choking on something. Or in this case due to the fact that she doesn't have a tongue. It looks as if someone chopped it off with a knife. Her teeth look kind of dark. She looks at me like she can see right through. Suddenly I don't here my little brother Chad shouting at me to rush back with the ball. Nine year olds can be annoy sometimes. The only sound I hear is that of the long trees responding to the sudden cold breeze. Then that of the ball as it falls off my hands. My attempt to pick it up fail badly as I was trying to be quick about it. Then when I look up she was gone. "Run Matthew, Run!!" I say to my self as I decide to leave the ball behind. But when I turn around she is right there. She's about three meters away from me. Her hand is still pointing at me while she's facing the ground. I stand there and freeze as she walk towards me. The closer she get the colder I start to feel. She uses the hand she was pointing whith to hold my hand. She is cold as ice. Her long nails begin to cut my hand as she squeezes to hold me tightly. I bleed as I try to keep my head away from her, she looks at me and she makes the sound again. And then suddenly she lets go of my hand. I start feeling really frosty, mainly on my hand where she touched me. My skin starts turning white like paper. The bleeding stops, almost as if it's a response to my newly developed body temperature. And then suddenly an old man with big beard came rushing at me from my right side, knocking me out instantly.