Part

One glance was enough to understand why no one stayed longer. Not only was her appearance off-putting, it made her seem out of place too. Had her plane from some other Halloween themed world crash landed, stranding her here? That was the story going around, but no one knew if it was the truth. That would have required not only approaching her, but interacting with her. Something none of the townspeople seemed game enough to do. 

"I'm not a psycho..." she'd try, but her whispers fell on deaf ears. The townspeople had made up their minds, and they didn't want anything tainting their version of her story. 

"But it's my story," she cried to herself, alone in her little house on the edge of town. "Shouldn't I get to decide it? If they'd give me a chance, they'd see." She sighed, looking out the window at the flowers growing. The flowers knew, even if no one else did. The flowers knew. That's why they bloomed for her and only her. 

The townspeople felt the flowers' selective blooming made her a witch. And definitely a bad witch, judging by her looks alone. Because that was all they allowed themselves to see. Her looks were enough, according to the townspeople. More than enough. 

Sometimes, she watched the children play from the safety of her home. She knew they'd run away if they saw her. She didn't want to make anyone cry. The last things she wanted was to scare anyone. But she liked the children. It wasn't their fault they feared her. It was the stories their young minds had been fed that fuelled the fear they felt. It wasn't their fault. 

But it did make her wish. That she could be part of things like that, rather than spectating from the sidelines. Maybe one day, someone would stop long enough to look part her exterior and really see her. Maybe one day, someone would take a chance on her. Then, her wish would come true. She'd be part of it. Could it be you?

The Siren's Sanctuary

 The darkness had ceased to exist. Because that was all there was now. Black. The perfect canvas for mind demons to run wild, and to rule. All that is left now is that small, voice that whispers in your ear. Part of you knows it means you harm. But that's only part of you. A very small part. 

That voice is a siren. Dangerous, yes, but also irresistibly alluring. The siren is just speaking the truth, after all. It's not telling you anything new. Only what you already know. Black is all there is now. Dark. But the dark, and the shadows, are a comfort. Because they allow you a place to hide. It feels safer in the dark, even if it is cold as ice. 

You don't want colour anymore. The colours are too bright. So bright, they seem sure not just to blind, but to burn as well. Here in the black, the concrete cold numbs any pain you might've felt otherwise. Pain you know well. You've felt it before, and you have no desire to revisit those sharp, stinging sensations again. 

The longer you stay in this blackness, the quieter the siren seems to become. Until the siren falls silent completely. The lack of noise... the absence of the siren's whisperings, are not things you're used to. It's a little disorientating to begin with, but you soon grow used to it. Even come to relish it. The siren doesn't say anything anymore because they don't need to. You've willingly joined their cool dark sanctuary, and it has become yours too. Your cool, dark, solitary and silent sanctuary.