Ring Around the Rosie

☆

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a girl named Ash. Her mother had died when she was twelve, and her father had remarried, although he had also died soon after. Ash's stepmother was already a mother to twin daughters who were sixteen, just two years younger than Ash, and all three of them hated Ash. Perhaps they were jealous, for her fair skin, platinum hair, and delicate build were all the rage at the time. Or maybe there was something else. They made her do all the chores, and she slept on the cold brick in front of the fireplace at night. Every morning she would wake up covered in the fluffy gray substance that was her namesake.

Once upon a time, a family received a letter with the royal seal on it. Two nearly identical girls ripped it open. The shorter one's eyes skimmed across the paper, while the taller one read aloud. Another girl listened in from behind a couch. An older woman who closely resembled the twin girls noticed flaxen hair peeking up from behind the sofa and chased the eavesdropper down a hallway with a wooden spoon.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to go to the ball, but she didn't have a dress. She had only a ratty white nightgown and a necklace that was her deceased mother's only remaining possession. This necklace was a curious object. The silver chain was quite plain, but the spherical pendant on it shone like a pearl and sparkled like a diamond. It reflected all the colors of the rainbow and was clearer than the purest waters at the same time. She sighed and absentmindedly rolled the pendant between her fingers. I wish I could go to the ball, she thought.

Once upon a time, a girl peered from a barred window and wished on a shooting star. The star flew down and granted her wish, but at a cost. She knew what she needed to do, and it wasn't much of an issue for her. After all, she had been doing the task for nearly six years.

Once upon a time, the police were investigating a murder. The crime scene was the victim's own bedroom. The photos showed him lying in a mummy's pose on his bed, his organs artfully splayed around him and the sheets soaked red. A glass marble rolled out of the dead man's pocket and onto his driveway as he was carted off to be examined.

Once upon a time, a vagrant was wandering the streets and pocketed a clear stone shot through with a single streak of scarlet. It was beautiful enough to be of some value, perhaps he could sell it to buy himself a meal.

Once upon a time, a girl bent the metal bars covering her windows with her bare hands and clambered out of it, after giving up on the locked door. A lock of her pale hair caught on the jagged edges of the window screen and was blown away by the storm brewing outside.

Once upon a time, a soaked and bedraggled young woman staggered back to her dorm room after reporting a dead body to the police. The sight of the mutilated half-body of what appeared to be a homeless man lying in a dank street corner had triggered a paranoia in her. Her fingers closed around a clear stone with a ribbon of red in it, which she had found on the sidewalk just moments before she saw the carcass. Her knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the stone as if it were a talisman that could ward off evil.

Once upon a time, a girl crouched next to an empty hearth, holding her necklace up to a candle. The two veins of carmine in it glowed. She listened to the ticking of the clock and waited for the slow breathing signaling that the other residents of the house had fallen asleep.

Once upon a time, a gaunt figure was watching the news outside an electronics store. The serial killer had struck again. This time it was a student at a local college. The sputtering yellow streetlights illuminated the figure's wispy white hair and a cruel hint of a smile.

Once upon a time, Ash watched as a deep crimson swirled through her pendant. The color finally settled like food dye in water as the clock struck ten.

Once upon a time, a deathly pale girl in a gossamer white gown floated like a ghost into the royal ball. A ruby red pendant with the luster of a pearl thudded against her too-prominent clavicles. No one stopped to question her about the red stains creeping up the hem of her dress or the metallic glint of her glass slippers. Nor did they wonder what she was muttering under her breath in a singsongy voice. Only the prince heard her song as he collapsed to the ground under her feet, his periwinkle coat soaking up a puddle the same color as the blood-red carpet.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..."

The clock began to chime. 

Twelve ringing, brassy tones from the ancient grandfather clock in the back corner cut through the tense silence in the ballroom. 

The prince never heard the last one. Neither did the killer.