Prologue
"Okay, Anastasia, truth or dare?" The girls grinned in anticipation.
"Dare," she said, a daring half smile on her lips. Simone twirled a strand of golden brown hair on a pale finger and Bailey held the bridge of her coffee colored nose, both making a big show of coming up with yet another outrageous dare. Finally they glanced at each other in mutual agreement.
Bailey spoke. "I dare you," she said, pausing for affect, "to say It."
"Say It?" Anastasia laughed.
Simone and Bailey glanced at each other again.
"Unless you're... chicken?" Simone taunted with a mischievous grin.
They giggled at Simone's imitation of a chicken. Dirty Little Secret by All American Rejects played on the stereo. As their laughter died down Anastasia stood. Bailey and Simone did the same.
"You're not actually going to say It. Are you?" Bailey asked, hesitant now. "We know just how unafraid of everything you are," she laughed. "You don't need to prove anything if you don't want to.'
"Sounds like a challenge to me," Anastasia replied chin high, courageous facade still going strong. "It's just an old camp fire story anyway," she scoffed.
Simone nodded in agreement. "We'll be outside the door so we can hear you say It then."
They made their way down the hall to the bathroom. No words were exchanged. In the dark of the bathroom, her bravado seemed to wither and eventually fade. Anastasia saw her reflexion in the wide mirror. Blond luscious hair worthy of any model and golden brown, glowing skin. She put on a brave face.... or tried. The smile came out crooked and fragile.
There was a knock on the door.
"Hurry up!" either Simone, Bailey or both of them said. With her nerves running so high, Anastasia couldn't distinguish between them.
"Okay!" she called back. One more time. She smiled again, a little better this time. "Are you guys ready? 'Cause I'm only doing this once!" There was no reply.
Anastasia took a death breath. "Bloody Mary," she said. She shivered. The room had suddenly dropped in temperature, to the point where she could see her own breath. "Bloody Mary," she said again. This time she paused. Her voice shook on the last word.
"Bloody Mary."
The room was silent. She laughed in relief.
And that's when I killed her.
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So what do you guys think? Personally, writing this I felt inclined to avoid the bathroom. I really freaked myself out remembering all the stories of Bloody Mary.
You probably get this a lot, but Votes and Comments appreciated! Please message me if you'd like a character in the story. Thanks :)
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The Reaping
RomanceMary is dead. Not just dead. She's a Reaper, taking the lives of those whose time has come and carrying their souls to their Choice. When you die you get a Choice, and Mary seems to have chosen wrong. Until, after centuries, the legends she was tol...
