Willows of Wysteria

Willows of Wysteria (chapter 1)

Well, this is a story that I wrote for English class, and apparently it was good.  I might continue it if I can get over this freaking WRITERS BLOCK (BLAAAHHH).
oh wait. nevermind I have an idea.  Please read.

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Do you see the shadow, lurking in the night?

Do you see the cobra, striking in the light?
Do you see the child, screaming out in fright?

And do you see the blood, glistening in the light?

* * * * * *

"Mommy?" the little boy cried, rubbing his sleepy violet eyes. He padded across the white tile floor, walking towards her dark wooden door. When he got there, he knocked, the sound echoing through the mostly empty house.

His mother did not reply.

He grabbed the brass knob, and the foreboding, ominous door opened. The pajamaed boy felt for the light switch, not enjoying the feeling of the choking darkness. He found the switch and flicked it on. And every part of him wished that he hadn't.

His mother was in her room, in the quilted bed, as he expected. But that was the only expected thing. His mother's bed was dyed red, her blood steadily dripping on the floor, drip, drip, drop. There was blood on the walls too. However, that does not begin to describe the centerpiece. His mother lay on her bed; her head chopped away, her chartreuse eyes glazed over, and her body torn apart so much so that he saw the bluish hue of the bone. Moreover, blood. Blood. So much, so much bright crimson blood around him that he almost threw up from the coppery smell. Then he heard a soft, but chillingly familiar voice.

"Mommy is dead." these words were then followed by a harsh, maniacal laugh, a laugh that would even make adults shiver in fear.

The little boy ran and hid, the laughter following him, trapping him in his mind.

Now he wanted silence.

* * * * * *

The next day, detectives Ethan Wright and Gamorah Salee stared at the gruesome scene before them.

"Ethan?" 

"Yeah?"

"Whoever did this was a bloody madman."

Ethan couldn't help but agree. Whoever did this not only brutally murder the person, but also they wrote words on the wall with her blood too. The words were: 'Little Gracie found a strange house, a place to play just past all the trees. Swift, sharp, needles. Do spot his face, before he feeds on the sheep's white fleece.'

The words, in his mind, made a poem of sorts. "Ethan, I know you think the words are a poem so I'm saying it now. This is a song." Gamorah's English accented voice called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He processed what she said and then replied sarcastically, "What song then, since you're so much more educated in the musical genre than I am?"

Gamorah sighed and said in an exasperated voice, "The song is Secrets of Wysteria from Vocaloid. Very creepy, wouldn't recommend it, mister Sarcasm." He nodded and then started reading the file that was given to him. It was the driving records. Apparently, there was a taxi driven away from here at eleven O'clock, approximately thirty minutes from the time of death, according to their estimates. He took note of this and stated reading the other information. Apparently, there are two sisters, a childhood friend, and a fiancé named Oliver Wreath.