Devoid of Emotion

A girl is sitting on the cold seat of a swing in a school playground, slowly swinging back and forth, her feet scraping a gravel. It is a cold Autumn day, but the only garments she is wearing are shorts and a long sleeved shirt, tattered and stained with something dark red. “Paint?”, you think. She is looking down at her lap, her bangs covering the side of her face. The wind whistles an eerie, familar tune, cutting through the trees’ branches, tearing off the last of Autumn’s leaves. A newspaper article drifts slowly over to the girl, and it lands in her lap.

She cocks her head to the side slightly, and picks up the article. Silence. Then, the girl laughs, sweeping her bangs from the side of her face. She notices you, and glances up.

Her eyes are cold, black, and empty-devoid of emotion. Her fingers let go of their grasp on the article, and her pale hand raises and turns it’s bloody palm to you. She waves, which sends the article fluttering off again to the mercy of the wind.

Suddenly, she slides off the seat. It flies back, hitting the metal bars up righting the swing set. Clink, clink.

She starts to run toward you, a dishonest smile plastered on her grimy face. You notice she isn’t wearing shoes, and her long black hair is unkempt. The girl stops running, and is standing just a few feet away from you. “Hi. Wanna play a game with me?” she asks, rubbing her bloody hands on her shorts, already caked in layers of dirt and blood. Speechless, you shake your head. She shrugs, and skips off to the school’s back entrance.

The article from before floats by a few feet a way, before gently landing in front of your feet. Cautiously, you pick it up. The girl giggles, and slams the door shut behind her.

BLOODY MURDER AT THE HUNTINGTON HOUSE, the article states, in bold, black letters.

The police are investigating a gruesome family murder that was found out earlier today. The slaughtered remains of the two twin five year old girls, mother, and father, have no evidence on them, Detective Hardy says. The only survivor of this horrible group murder is third child, Mary Huntington, 13, who is currently missing.

Your eyes drift down to a picture of the Huntington family, all sitting on a picnic blanket underneath a tree. The twins are holding ice cream cones, and the mother is in her husband’s arms, laughing. The father is looking at the twins, smiling. But Mary is sitting off in a corner, her eyes slightly off the direction of the camera, staring at the camera man.

Her eyes are cold, black, and empty-devoid of emotion.


4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mona
    Feb 25, 2012 @ 11:28:53

    Well written. You build suspense nicely.


  2. jenny108
    Jun 01, 2012 @ 22:29:48

    Wow, I am genuinely impressed. You build a very vivid mental image with your descriptive writing. You really bring your reader into the story.

    You have a very in-tuned natural talent; especially for your age. *Not that I’m calling you a child; however I AM saying that you write better than most adults I know. I am very impressed; I hope you stick with writing and see where it takes you..


    • starrkatt
      Jun 01, 2012 @ 22:42:41

      My, thank you. It really brightens my day (or night, which it is right now) when I recieve such nice comments.

      I don’t know. I just write because my mind feels like it will overflow soon if I don’t write down some of my ideas…

      Thank you cordially for the follow as well. šŸ™‚



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