One chime of the wooden clock.
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.