You are like a rose,

Pretty and delicate.

Your red skirts swirl

As you dance,

Like a flame.

Hypnotising.

And your velvet,

Soft lips sing

A sweet song.

Lulling.

Like a siren.

Deceitful,

The prickster tricks

With its jagged thorns.

You are like a rose.

...

There were three little girls,

But it was the one with the curls

That would win the part

Of grabbing everyone’s heart. ...

Nothing.

Those had been my last words to her. Nothing. My last words had Ben empty and quiet. Too afraid to speak, I had allowed the ghost of silence to haunt our relationship. Possess my ability to say even a single word. And now, she was gone. They had taken her.

Their macilent figures had surfaced from the shadows and their skeletal fingers had pointed directly at her. And just as though one ...