The Woods

The Woods

Four girls went walking in the winter wood.
Blue, pink, and purple lead the pack, while emerald green followed not far behind.
The girls in front were all wearing the same red scarf—
A coincidence, they thought, because they couldn't know better.

And emerald green snapped her fingers.

No! Blue suddenly couldn't breathe,
She desperately clawed at the scarf, trying to get it off, trying to set herself free—
But to no avail.

Her blood painted the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.



Three girls went walking in the winter wood.
Purple and pink, spurred on by the latter, kept their distance from emerald green.
And yet they still wore the same red scarf—
They couldn't know better.

And emerald green snapped her fingers.

Suddenly, blood, from purple's chest, like a lily blooming in the late spring.
Pink, bent down to help her, suddenly cried out in pain and then no more—
She cried, to no avail.

Their blood intermingled as it painted the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.



A girl went walking, alone, in the winter wood.
Emerald green, lonely; as her efforts to pursue her crush were in vain.
She tied around her neck a red scarf—
Much like the ones the others had worn, but she knew better.

And emerald green snapped her fingers.



Three girls, and a boy, went walking in the winter wood.
Blue lead the pack, with purple, pink, and golden hazel not far behind.
They each wore the same red scarf—
Except for Blue, because she knew better.

Suddenly, pink stopped the group.
She had seen something, she said, and it scared her.
Lying in the snow, beside the trail
Was an unfamiliar female form

With dull

lifeless


eyes



of





emerald








green













And her blood painted the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.