Blood was everywhere. How was she to know it had gotten this bad? Sure, every kid is afraid of the dark, but this—this is something different.
Sharp left onto Duponte St.
“It’ll be o-okay,” she shivered, rattling her thin fingers through Timmy’s hair, and against his oddly still shoulders.
“I’m okay, Mom. It’s better this way,” Timmy squeaked, blood running down his small, pink cheeks.
“Okay?!”
Timmy stared forward, smiling with the maniacal dark now a distant memory.
Her eyes trembled down to the two little white peelings on her lap.
“Can eyelids even be sewed back on?!”
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alt="The Last Leprechaun by Dakria"
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alt="Sitting on Aine's Cursed Stone by Crystal N. Ramos"
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