The river spoke to the girl. She was terrified, biting clean through her lip. Was this babe insane? Well, you would not be the first to say that. When the little blonde turned, she felt the Michael Myers music play in her heart. Any minute now, a guy in a mask who refuses to DIE would get her. Or, she’d end up in a ditch somewhere, raped and bloody. The river, however deep, gave her comfort until she felt the music. Well, it was time for the girl to face the music. But it was difficult. It was like taking away money and being given a rock instead. It was difficult. And it wasn’t like she was high maintence or anything either. She was, in fact, a smart blonde. She couldn’t stand them damn stereotypes. And the river obviously couldn’t either.
“I know, it really sucks to be called shit like a dumb blonde” it rasped.
She screaming to her house. If rivers could talk, maybe the house could too. But she was NOT crazy. At least, she didn’t THINK she was. Scraying along the fine line between normal and crazy.