Her Dress Was White

Her Dress Was White

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Dec 2, 2018
Her hands were cold, no pulse, no breathing. She was like a beautiful statue, laying in a white silk covered coffin. Jasper felt his body move on its own, firmly grabbing the golden rod protruding out of the woman's cold heart. It felt, hot. Something bad was about to happen...
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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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