Bloody Mary

Bloody Mary.

Two words. Simple, concise, yet so full of meaning.

Jess contemplated this meaning as she stared into the bathroom mirror, the candle she brought in with her casting strange shadows and distorting her image. Her eyes looked like black pools, her cheeks hollowed to skeletal proportions.

Bloody Mary.

A child’s game, an urban legend, a myth passed on for generations of giggling sleepovers. Chant her name and summon the witch from her grave. Fear now fills her, foolish, but still so real. A cold chill creeps across her skin, raising the hairs on her arm. Twelve times Jess has said her name, the thirteenth is to be the key.

Just say the words.

She took a breath. What if there was truth to the legend? A shadow flickers across the wall, stopping her breath momentarily. She whips around, but sees nothing. Looking back into her own glassy eyes, a pinpoint of red danced in the pupils. She shuddered.

Gathering her courage, Jess drew herself up and blew the candle out.

Bloody Mary.

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