Rhiannon B.

Megan O.

Rhiannon B.

Annie A.

Unnamed

I am a beast with many a name
I thrive off of blame
I lurk behind and maim
I will not be tame
I hear your disclaim

I leave behind the lonely
I fall out so smoothly
Beneath I am heard, you hide it so poorly
You speak of me and feel so queenly
I see my look in your eyes, miss shifty

I draw your gazes
Yet laugh on the fringes
You will not see all my fusses,
Until my shadow is lifted you will not see the ashes
Do not be fooled in my wake there will be corpses

Tomorrow is new, and so is my prattle
For I never dwindle
I will find another to shackle
My most prized are those who tangle
So be wistful in your fable
For you could be my next damsel

Irony is a Joke

“I want to be the first person to sneeze from pepper, slip on a banana peel, fall down a spiral staircase, and die!”

The three girls’ joyous giggles echoed across the expanse of emporiums as they strolled to the candy shop, making up whimsical death tales that even the Grim Reaper himself wouldn’t believe along the way.

“Hey, Sofia, has it ever bothered you that we’re always joking around about dying?” Sherry fidgeted with her jacket strings, glancing warily for anyone who would think they looked suspicious.

“No way!” Sofia sent a sassy smirk in her timid friend’s direction. “It’s gonna take anyone a good while to finish us off!”

“Just think about it, Sherry,” Eva fell in step with her friends in the front. “We’ve got a lifetime ahead of us. Don’t sweat the small stuff and just enjoy life!”
She grinned and broke out into a dash. "Now get moving! You guys are so slow! I’m going to get all the chocolate pretzels before any of you do!”

“Oh yeah? Challenge accepted!”

As her friends bounced around the racks of candy like playful puppies, Sherry remained still. Somehow, she felt uneasy.

At that moment, her thoughts stopped.

“Sherry Devonshire.” The name trickled out like thick, creamy molasses. A boot pressed roughly against Sherry's cheek, firm as a paperweight. "You've changed a lot, old friend. Thanks for cooperating quietly; my job doesn't allow any margin for error."

“Sofia! Sherry’s down!” Eva’s horror-struck face gaped at the auburn-haired girl, who promptly swatted Sherry in the back with her silver crossbow and leapt away, disappearing into the floor below.

The two crumpled beside their friend as the crowd around them went into a panic, some screaming for medics or the police.

Sofia’s hand brushed a tiny round bullet.

It was silver.