The Wicked Never Sleep _cityof_
Run little kitty cat, run, run from me you wont. I shall catch you and you and we will dance the dance of joy.
The night was clearer than most nights. It was full of pretty little lights in the sky called stars. Not to be mistaken by the other lights of the tall buildings and the cars, pretty as well, but I preferred the stars more. They always sang to me, sang to me lullabies of old. And they told me secrets, secrets of things to come.
The stars always knew, always knew who was who, and they always told me so. I was like Santa Clause, and the stars always told me who had been naughty and who had been nice. I walked away from the window. To night the stars called me out. They wanted me to go out and hunt. Oh that so wicked of them. I walked over to the bathroom and picked up a brush and began brushing my hair, getting it pretty for the night sky.
I looked in the mirror and I could see right through it, nothing staring back but the open door. I let out a sigh, it was so sad. The mirror never liked to look at me either. It was a little sad, but I kept on brushing my hair and singing.
Come with me children I’ll take thee away, into my garden so we can play…
I looked at the mirror once more and frowned. “When will you look at me? Do you think I’m pretty?” It didn’t answer me… it seemed cross, it didn’t want to speak to me at all. I pouted a little bit and finished brushing my hair.
“Perhaps grandmum thinks I’m pretty. I should go seek her out and we can both play. Hunt like little kittens and find us a yummy, yummy prey.”
I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. Dancing and singing as I walked out into the lovely night, the stars in my head, and the taste of death in my mouth.
The night was clearer than most nights. It was full of pretty little lights in the sky called stars. Not to be mistaken by the other lights of the tall buildings and the cars, pretty as well, but I preferred the stars more. They always sang to me, sang to me lullabies of old. And they told me secrets, secrets of things to come.
The stars always knew, always knew who was who, and they always told me so. I was like Santa Clause, and the stars always told me who had been naughty and who had been nice. I walked away from the window. To night the stars called me out. They wanted me to go out and hunt. Oh that so wicked of them. I walked over to the bathroom and picked up a brush and began brushing my hair, getting it pretty for the night sky.
I looked in the mirror and I could see right through it, nothing staring back but the open door. I let out a sigh, it was so sad. The mirror never liked to look at me either. It was a little sad, but I kept on brushing my hair and singing.
Come with me children I’ll take thee away, into my garden so we can play…
I looked at the mirror once more and frowned. “When will you look at me? Do you think I’m pretty?” It didn’t answer me… it seemed cross, it didn’t want to speak to me at all. I pouted a little bit and finished brushing my hair.
“Perhaps grandmum thinks I’m pretty. I should go seek her out and we can both play. Hunt like little kittens and find us a yummy, yummy prey.”
I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. Dancing and singing as I walked out into the lovely night, the stars in my head, and the taste of death in my mouth.