Daddy's Little Girl

by Melissa Treglia

"My father is here. He has finally come for me." A little ditty I wrote for the 100-words comm on LJ back in May 2010, which I had to shave down to fit their word limit. This is the original, uncut version.

I sit quietly in my room, as the dark clouds begin to roll in and block out the sunlight. There's a bone-deep chill in the air, and wind whips through the house with the acrid stench of smoke. The lights flicker, dim and then go out. In the distance, I can hear the electrical transformers exploding, rendering the entire town pitch black.

The wind howls, and I sense it. My father is here. He has finally come for me.

I open the door. His black, dead eyes seem to gleam momentarily with a wicked fiery light and his jacket smells of brimstone. "Come on, my sweet girl. It won't be a party without you."

I slip my hand into my father's; his touch is cold yet comforting to me. And I am now ready to follow in his footsteps, into the family business. The end is here because we are here. Together, we'll bring this world to its knees.