Chapter 3

Days passed after that night, and Johnathan hadn't left from the house. He was too petrified to leave, fearing that the girl would move towards him. Looking through the blinds, his father's shot gun in hand, Johnathan saw her standing by the tree like that night ago. Blood still caked her gray dress, and the rotting heap had disappeared, only leaving a dark patch in the grass.

More blood lingered on her chin.

Ignoring that new detail, he directed his attention to the approaching car; so did the girl, whose eyes seem to flicker with glee as an older man got out.

It was Mr. Jones, the old store clerk from town.

From the blinds, the young man saw the clerk give the girl a sideways glance, gripping the box of canned goods in his hands. Quickly, with panic, Johnathan opened the front door and pulled the man in.

"Thank God you're here, man." He exclaimed, hurriedly closing and locking the door.

"Who's that girl, son? She looks pretty sick."

"She's crazy, that's what." Johnathan retorted. "This kid pops out of nowhere, just standing outside, and watches the house."

Taking the box of canned goods gratefully, he gave a quick glance to the front door, as if it would disappear suddenly, and walked into the kitchen. The old man followed, giving the door a confused glance. His blue eyes then took to studying the small house, seeing the lack of talismans.

He had known Johnathan's father to be a rather superstitious man, having good luck charms and talismans of the likes, so it was surprising to see every single one of them taken down; yet, he said nothing, not wanting to impose. Looking back to Johnathan, Mr. Jones furrowed his eyebrows at the young man's jittery movement.

"Well come now, John. Surely she ain't got ya spooked." The old man chuckled lightly. "You're acting like your father."

"She has me horrified, Jones." Johnathan grimaced, obviously not liking the joke.

"...She ate the cat."

"...You're kidding." The old man glanced quickly towards the front, then back to Johnathan in bewilderment. The young man was not kidding, which only proved to be much more disturbing. "When did that happening?"

"I dunno, 'bout a few days ago, but she's been hanging around for a month..."

Mr. Jones pondered for a bit before getting up. "Then come with me to town. We can get help there."

Johnathan gave him a look of horror, standing up more hurriedly.

"I'm not going out there, man. That girl's not well..." He stood away towards the wall, eyeing the front door with cautious eyes.

"She's not well, and there's no way I'm going out there where she can come closer..."

Mr. Jones shook his head, helping himself to a beer from the fridge, and walking towards the door. Johnathan felt a sharp chill, staring at the man as if he was walking to death row. The old man gripped the handle, giving Johnathan a pitiful glance like he'd use to do towards the young man's father. Honestly, this superstition was inherited in this family.

"Don't be such a child, John. This is a child we're taking about. What can she do to us?" He unlocked the door and opened it.

"No!"

Walking out, Mr. Jones was startled to come face to face with the child. Standing fearfully by the door, Johnathan realized she had moved closer; now, she stood just outside the house's fence, blocking the stoned path to the cars. Immediately, he pulled the door back, wanting something to distance himself from her. She, on the other hand, smiled lightly, her head lowered almost intimidatingly.

"How rude, Johnathan~" She croaked, gazing from him to Mr. Jones menacingly. "You're playing without me?"

The sound of her soft, scratchy voice made the young man shrink back; however, the old man grunted loudly, walking up to her in annoyance. He highly doubted that she ate the cat, as Johnathan claimed. That was most likely ketchup spattered on her clothes, only playing a prank: a cruel one but a prank nonetheless. Thrusting his arm at her, Mr. Jones pointed sternly, glaring at her like a teacher would a troublesome student.

Now you see here, child." He started, his blue eyes flashing firmly. "These silly games of yours need to end!"

She stared blankly at him, her smile sinking into a frown as purple eyes swirling unnaturally in the evening light. Johnathan watched in the back, feeling cowardly yet cautious of this mysterious child. As the old man lectured her, she leaned in, staring deeper and deeper into his eyes.

Then, with a drop of her jaw, still keep eye-contact, she snatched his fingers into her teeth viciously and pulled back.

Silence suffocated them all.

No one moved in the growing darkness, and Mr. Jones only reacted from his shock when he saw the bright blood. Shaking terribly, seeing it spurt from his quivering hand, he bellowed an unearthly howl. Johnathan watched with widen eyes, his heart thumping against his chest, and his mind screaming at him to close the door and hide like a coward.

The girl, who was smiling with wide, fish-like eyes, stepped closer to the old man, highly amused by the terrified screaming. Softly touching his trembling hand, her skin cold against his own, she stared up at him with a look of derangement, letting him see his severed fingers clenched in her teeth. The old man began to whimper, for her grip became amazingly strong, keeping him in place. Leaning closer, the tiny girl opened her mouth again, letting the severed fingers drop as she closed in on his neck.

"It's not nice to be a bully, mister~" She cooed, watching his pumping jugular with predatory eyes. "You'll only get burned in the end~"

Grinning wide, showing rows of bloodied teeth, she opened her jaw wide, seeming to snap it out of place, until it chomped down on his vein. With the first shriek, Johnathan closed the door, locking it quickly and listening as Mr. Jones met his untimely demise. He trembled pathetically, his fingers digging into the wooden frame. Looking down, as the shrieks turned high-pitched and desperate, crimson leaked through the bottom, staining the soles of his shoes.

His breathing hitched.

Johnathan stepped from the door in fear, hearing the horrid screams; after a while, he heard knocking of tiny hands on the door. They only grew louder, and giggling soon joined them.

"Johnathan, come outside~ I only want to play~~"

He bolted to the back of the house, hiding under his covers like a child afraid of the boogeyman. He stayed there all night, shivering and shivering as her voice echoed in the front, repaying over and over like a broken record.

"Come out to play, Johnathan. Come out to play~"

The next day, Mr. Jones's body disappeared too.

End of Chapter 3
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