Picture it. Rolling green hills, dotted with daisies and ants, all around you.
Can you see her? Down there – the girl on the beach. A tiny, dark speck from here.
Look downwards. You want to move but, as if in a nightmare, your feet are planted on the ground – you can't move. You're standing on a patch of soil, shoes implanted as if you are sinking into quicksand.
Now look up. You squint, trying to make out any features of the girl other than her brown ponytail in the twilight. Would you feel unnerved or fascinated by her unknown presence?
Look to the horizon. See the sun slowly melting below it, see the spectrum of colours that the beautiful sky has become, as orange as a bright flame, yet as pink as a newborn animal emerging from it's mother.
Now imagine you are closer to the beach, but still on the hill. Now the golden sand is visible below you, crabs scuttling along as if you weren't there. Rock pools are dotted throughout the coastline, the sun rippling rainbows across the still water. You can make out more details in the girl now. She seems to be moving erratically, jumping around on the coast like an excited puppy – yet with her gaze permanently fixated on the beauty of the sunset. She looks young – no older than seven years of age. Beneath her dark red coat, she's wearing black leggings dotted with baby-blue flowers.
A wave crashes onto the rocks. Your eyes shoot up, seeking the source of the white noise. Reflected in your eyes are the shades of the ocean, black and blue and white and grey and green and purple and navy. You wonder at the huge spectrum of colours that water can produce.
If I died here, you think, I would be happy.
Now imagine you are standing right beside the excited pup on the beach.
You open your mouth to ask her, who are you? What are you doing here? Where are your parents?
The girl places a forefinger on your lips to silence you. She rasps into your ear, the sound of her whisper unnatural for a girl of her age.
"Don't… say... anything..."
And suddenly your mouth won't move. The girl steps away from your ear, and smiles sweetly. She turns away from you and starts mumbling under her breath to herself, like some witch driven insane.
"…pixies…where are you, pixies? I wanna see you… I wanna see your magic…[i] I came when you told me to… where areeeee youuuu…?"
Now that you are closer to the girl, you can make out more of her facial features. You stare at her in bewilderment. She turns back to you, and holds your stare with deep intensity in her grey, colourless eyes. Something about those eyes sends a chill down your spine. In her eyes, the shades of grey wind and flurry around the iris, dancing around the oculus to her soul like a moth around a flame. Her whites are badly bloodshot, and her wide, black pupils look like an immense, yawning chasm in an otherwise-placid landscape.
A gust of wind blows through your body, chilling you to the bone. Your first impulse is to bring your hands to your arms to attempt to warm yourself, but not even they will move.
Abruptly, a golden shimmer lights the beach.
And you hear the girl laughing - "They're here! The pixies are here! Just like they said they would be!"
You can see shapes forming in the glimmer – but they look… somehow wrong… they are much taller than you expected, and their normally-delicate wings look… raggedy and… worn…
The girl's laugh morphs to one of menace. Her childish laugh turns into a feverish one, the giggle ringing out over the beach.
You are trying your hardest to get your legs to move, but they refuse. The monsters are close to you now, just a few yards away, and the psychopathic child is just standing there, watching them advance.
A sharp pain manifests itself in your forearm. At first you don't register it. You feel strangely detached from your body.
Then you look down and realise what has happened. You are unable to screech in pain as you see your crimson blood flowing through a checked shirt, torn by deadly sharp claws.
This is only the first bite of pain you have to endure. Painful red blossoms across the rest of your body as you come under the assault of the creatures, yet you are unable to protect yourself.
Eventually, the pain becomes too much. A fog enters the edges of your vision, normal colours… turning to beige… turning to grey…
…turning to white…
You whiteout.
The last thing you hear is the child's sandpaper-like voice mere inches from your ear.
"Good night... sleep tight... don't let the bed bugs... bite."
--By Kitsunemimi
Can you see her? Down there – the girl on the beach. A tiny, dark speck from here.
Look downwards. You want to move but, as if in a nightmare, your feet are planted on the ground – you can't move. You're standing on a patch of soil, shoes implanted as if you are sinking into quicksand.
Now look up. You squint, trying to make out any features of the girl other than her brown ponytail in the twilight. Would you feel unnerved or fascinated by her unknown presence?
Look to the horizon. See the sun slowly melting below it, see the spectrum of colours that the beautiful sky has become, as orange as a bright flame, yet as pink as a newborn animal emerging from it's mother.
Now imagine you are closer to the beach, but still on the hill. Now the golden sand is visible below you, crabs scuttling along as if you weren't there. Rock pools are dotted throughout the coastline, the sun rippling rainbows across the still water. You can make out more details in the girl now. She seems to be moving erratically, jumping around on the coast like an excited puppy – yet with her gaze permanently fixated on the beauty of the sunset. She looks young – no older than seven years of age. Beneath her dark red coat, she's wearing black leggings dotted with baby-blue flowers.
A wave crashes onto the rocks. Your eyes shoot up, seeking the source of the white noise. Reflected in your eyes are the shades of the ocean, black and blue and white and grey and green and purple and navy. You wonder at the huge spectrum of colours that water can produce.
If I died here, you think, I would be happy.
Now imagine you are standing right beside the excited pup on the beach.
You open your mouth to ask her, who are you? What are you doing here? Where are your parents?
The girl places a forefinger on your lips to silence you. She rasps into your ear, the sound of her whisper unnatural for a girl of her age.
"Don't… say... anything..."
And suddenly your mouth won't move. The girl steps away from your ear, and smiles sweetly. She turns away from you and starts mumbling under her breath to herself, like some witch driven insane.
"…pixies…where are you, pixies? I wanna see you… I wanna see your magic…[i] I came when you told me to… where areeeee youuuu…?"
Now that you are closer to the girl, you can make out more of her facial features. You stare at her in bewilderment. She turns back to you, and holds your stare with deep intensity in her grey, colourless eyes. Something about those eyes sends a chill down your spine. In her eyes, the shades of grey wind and flurry around the iris, dancing around the oculus to her soul like a moth around a flame. Her whites are badly bloodshot, and her wide, black pupils look like an immense, yawning chasm in an otherwise-placid landscape.
A gust of wind blows through your body, chilling you to the bone. Your first impulse is to bring your hands to your arms to attempt to warm yourself, but not even they will move.
Abruptly, a golden shimmer lights the beach.
And you hear the girl laughing - "They're here! The pixies are here! Just like they said they would be!"
You can see shapes forming in the glimmer – but they look… somehow wrong… they are much taller than you expected, and their normally-delicate wings look… raggedy and… worn…
The girl's laugh morphs to one of menace. Her childish laugh turns into a feverish one, the giggle ringing out over the beach.
You are trying your hardest to get your legs to move, but they refuse. The monsters are close to you now, just a few yards away, and the psychopathic child is just standing there, watching them advance.
A sharp pain manifests itself in your forearm. At first you don't register it. You feel strangely detached from your body.
Then you look down and realise what has happened. You are unable to screech in pain as you see your crimson blood flowing through a checked shirt, torn by deadly sharp claws.
This is only the first bite of pain you have to endure. Painful red blossoms across the rest of your body as you come under the assault of the creatures, yet you are unable to protect yourself.
Eventually, the pain becomes too much. A fog enters the edges of your vision, normal colours… turning to beige… turning to grey…
…turning to white…
You whiteout.
The last thing you hear is the child's sandpaper-like voice mere inches from your ear.
"Good night... sleep tight... don't let the bed bugs... bite."
--By Kitsunemimi