|One really frustrating knitting project.|
WARNING: For the math nerds amongst us.
You have been warned.
Seconds to the Last MidnightOne chime of the wooden clock.Seconds to the Last Midnight by Tishawish
Two pairs of running feet.
Three presences in the room...
There in the shadows it lay hidden.
The little boys' hearts she could but listen.
She who was murdered bloody and young.
Would seek revenge to which she clung.
Four fists hammering the locked door.
Five inches floating above the floor.
Six shallow rasps of breath.
Tender movement across the space.
Wicked smile spread upon her face.
She hovered closer to the little boys.
Tiny things that were made her toys.
She was killed too early in life.
By the serrated slice of her father's knife.
Never leaving as the years went by.
What she desired was for all to die.
Ten short seconds that crawled past.
Eleven heartbeats moved too fast.
Twelve midnight on All Hallows' Eve...
It would be their last.