The Witch's Toy ✔

The Witch's Toy ✔

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WpMetadataReadComplete Mon, Feb 4, 20196h 21m
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Fiction
Paranormal
[completed] horror // paranormal // romance A witch girl tied to cursed demons and her dear puppet boy who kills them. ••• I traced the characters with a finger, my brows coming together with concentration as I read the curling black ink. It was a binding talisman - one of the many that had been strung across the door. And it had broken when the door had swung open. Dread seeped into my heart as I gasped out loud, a chill coming over me. I swallowed, breathing irregular, as I kept my eyes glued to the wooden floor. A shadow had crept up in front of me, belonging to the one thing that I had seen inside of the room just seconds before. The drummer boy lifted my chin up. When I met his eyes, I was paralyzed. The brown color was the same, but where that thin smile once was replaced by one that stretched wide, splitting his entire face in half. I stared at the sharp daggers of each tooth, legs quivering so violently I thought I would collapse onto the floor. "Hello, witch girl," the drummer boy purred, watching me with the eyes of a predator. "Thank you for freeing me." ••• cover by @scmimi note: This book contains themes of suicide, self-harm, bullying, religion, and superstition (particularly East Asian superstition). Although these aren't the main focus in the plotline, please keep in mind that the above are mentioned at least once. dec 31 2017 - feb 04 2019.
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#262
toy
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"Kill..." the low whispering voice trailed off into my head. I don't think the strange whispering voice came from anyone in the room. It was too loud; too abnormel; too deadly. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back making me scream and cry out for someone, something, anything. I want to be alone, somwhere dark, somewhere safe. My eyes open to see a woman cradling me in her arms. A man with red eyes, tan skin, and blonde hair starred at me. His eyes sunk into my head making me wince. The woman is natuarlly warm and comfortable, but her face is stained with tears mixed with blood on her, once beautiful, face. She smeared some of the blood onto my puffy cheeks with a warm beaten and calloused hand. "You're gonna be okay," she assured me. More tears fell from her eyes. I looked closer into her grayish, I think, eyes. They had evil tucked beneath fear in them. I don't know what she means, yet her words mean the world to me at this very moment: 4 minutes ago, I was born.

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