She paints her lips with arsenic, a trail of victims lost along the way. Her words drip syrup, intoxicating each who consumes. A taste is all she offers, none will get it all. Like the lady with the candy house, beware of what you ask for. Nothing is what it seems. Your throat will tighten, eyes roll back in your head as you choke on your pleas for more. Her laughter is all you hear as she buries another victim to her crimes.
confessionsofpassion 1 Minute
Published by confessionsofpassion
I enjoy fictional writing, and creating fantasies in my head. It's a dark place in there, and sometimes, I even scare myself. View all posts by confessionsofpassion