Bloody Mary, chapter 1
Blood.
Her.
I hate the blood, but she was beautiful.
She didn't deserve it.
I saw her.
When I was young.
She was there.
But the blood was there, too.
Dripping off her face, falling onto her black dress, stained in blood.
Blood.
Why?
As I told you, I have seen her once before.
I was at my best friend's sleepover.
I was only ten years of age.
She appeared to be the same age as me.
I was at my friend's sleepover and Billie Joe (my best friend) and Tre (my other best friend) dared me to go see her.
"Go on Mikey!" Tre demanded.
"Yeah scaredy butt!" Billie Joe teased.
"I-I'll go...what do I do?"
"You go in the bathroom, turn out the lights, and turn around three times while saying 'Bloody Mary'."
"O-ok..." I studdered.
I walked into the bathroom and did just as Billie Joe said. The lights were off and all you could hear was the dripping faucet over the sink. I turned three times and chanted the name. As the third turn finished, horror struck my face as I watched a girl no older than me emerge from the mirror. She truly was beautiful. She wore a black dress and dark converse, stained with blood. Her jet-black hair matched perfectly with the red streaks that were as dark as blood. Her face was...amazing yet, terrible. It was stained with blood. Blood. I hate blood. Everything she wore was stained with blood. Blood. She tried to touch me with her delicate fingers, but fear took over me and I ran. I ran out of the washroom screaming in terror. I ran all the way to Billie Joe's room and hid under my sleeping bag. But she followed me. I peeked out from under the warn comfort only to find the girl. And the blood. Blood. I took in all of her beauty once again for the last time that night. But before she went, I wanted her name. I asked, and she dissapeared. I heard the sound of squeaking converse walk over to my book bag. She took out my journal. And in the blink of an eye, she was gone again. Suddenly, my journal was thrown onto my body and I looked down. In dark red letters was the name Mary. Mary. She was amazing. But she was gone.
Why?
Why hadn't Billie Joe or Tre seen Mary?
Why did Mary leave?
Why was Mary only visible to me?
But the one question that seemed to pound in my mind was: Why was that punk-angel covered in blood?
This is the story of a girl. Not just any girl, but Mary. I will tell you about her. I will tell you the story of a girl known as Bloody Mary.
Her.
I hate the blood, but she was beautiful.
She didn't deserve it.
I saw her.
When I was young.
She was there.
But the blood was there, too.
Dripping off her face, falling onto her black dress, stained in blood.
Blood.
Why?
As I told you, I have seen her once before.
I was at my best friend's sleepover.
I was only ten years of age.
She appeared to be the same age as me.
I was at my friend's sleepover and Billie Joe (my best friend) and Tre (my other best friend) dared me to go see her.
"Go on Mikey!" Tre demanded.
"Yeah scaredy butt!" Billie Joe teased.
"I-I'll go...what do I do?"
"You go in the bathroom, turn out the lights, and turn around three times while saying 'Bloody Mary'."
"O-ok..." I studdered.
I walked into the bathroom and did just as Billie Joe said. The lights were off and all you could hear was the dripping faucet over the sink. I turned three times and chanted the name. As the third turn finished, horror struck my face as I watched a girl no older than me emerge from the mirror. She truly was beautiful. She wore a black dress and dark converse, stained with blood. Her jet-black hair matched perfectly with the red streaks that were as dark as blood. Her face was...amazing yet, terrible. It was stained with blood. Blood. I hate blood. Everything she wore was stained with blood. Blood. She tried to touch me with her delicate fingers, but fear took over me and I ran. I ran out of the washroom screaming in terror. I ran all the way to Billie Joe's room and hid under my sleeping bag. But she followed me. I peeked out from under the warn comfort only to find the girl. And the blood. Blood. I took in all of her beauty once again for the last time that night. But before she went, I wanted her name. I asked, and she dissapeared. I heard the sound of squeaking converse walk over to my book bag. She took out my journal. And in the blink of an eye, she was gone again. Suddenly, my journal was thrown onto my body and I looked down. In dark red letters was the name Mary. Mary. She was amazing. But she was gone.
Why?
Why hadn't Billie Joe or Tre seen Mary?
Why did Mary leave?
Why was Mary only visible to me?
But the one question that seemed to pound in my mind was: Why was that punk-angel covered in blood?
This is the story of a girl. Not just any girl, but Mary. I will tell you about her. I will tell you the story of a girl known as Bloody Mary.
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