alone on Weary Rd. We looked at each other in awe, and then at the windshield
to see, a bloody, maroon, handprint dripping on the now foggy glass.
We glanced at each other again, and back at the bloody window. We saw a little girl. The little girl had dark, black, hair with a ripped, white, dress, and a scary
crooked smile. “Hello,” said the girl. We screamed, and both jumped out of the
Jeep. We watched her motion her hand over her neck and she said: “I got you.”
I’ll never forget how Jaxon had a red stain down his shirt. No wounds, but a
large, red scratch down his back.
A blood curtailing scream sealed the experience
“I’m Coming For You”
I still wonder though, when will she strike next?
2