ivy cross - [d4] - finished

( b i o -- ☆ )

I was just about to get my nightgown on, just about to brush my teeth and head to bed. I had already tied up my hair and scrubbed each speck of make-up off of my old face, the wrinkles were quite prominent now. I hated it when I couldn't wear make-up; appearance has always been a large aspect of consideration for me. Anyways, it was just about the stroke of midnight, maybe a small bit after wards and I was sipping some tea at my dining room table, all the windows were locked and each door had its bolts shut and twisted with precision of someone who wanted to be safe more than anything else. I don't know what caused it to happen, I'm not quite sure how she came to be there. Either way, it was just moments later that I heard the faintest rattling noise on the door, at first i thought it was simply the wind. My house had seen many storms and wood sideboards creaked every so often. I should have known better than to suspect what that simply was, I should have been ready.

I wasn't.

Soon came the whispering, the small voice that slipped through the door cracks and right into my floppy, old ears. The harmony of voices seemed to be calling for help, for a rescuer. I remember standing up and shaking my head; mum always told me that wacky things begin to happen as the clocks ticks faster. I just figured that it was one of those things, a simple aspect of aging and time as it ticked closer to the day I would just fade away.

The noises wouldn't stop though and the faint thumping still vibrated through the house with a peculiar persistence that rattled me quite a bit. If it were a piece of wood, wouldn't hitting something that many times have made it simply fall off by now. It was only finally then that I decided to open my door and dare to peek outside, into the darkness of the night. I was never the woman to back down and if it were my house that needed protecting, so help me God. I never suspected what I saw there though, i never imagined that face, and those hallowed out eyes and waterlogged locks of hair that spiraled down the little girl's back. Her hands were down by her sides, her small fingers letting off just the faintest drips of water as I continued to stare at her. No rain poured from the sky and none had been reported for weeks, what had she been doing? Especially at this time of night. How was she soaked to the bone, her flimsy nightgown sopping wet as it lay limp at her sides with a lame sort of look. Nothing gave way on her face, why had she come here?

I couldn't figure it out; nothing in my right mind could explain what was happening. Even so, why did she come to my door? Why not the nice lady’s house down the road?

"Are you Anne?" her voice is as smooth as silk and matches her porcelain skin, small dimples line her cheeks and a dim light allowed the smallest bit of freckles to be seen on the bridge of her slightly crooked nose. She is so perfect in an evil way, and yet I cannot figure it out. Something deep inside of me wants to help this child, to take her into my arms and tell her that it will all be okay. Something else though, another part of me is screaming to shoo her away. And so I stare, not knowing what to say. "You are though, right?" She continues, her condition not seeming to faze her in the slightest bit nor stop her from saying my name. How does she know me?

"Yes," I reply slowly. "Yes, I am Anne. Dear child, may I ask how you know me."