T
The Mighty Raveness
Guest
Original poster
"Have you ever pressed a cool silver blade against the blue vein of someone's milk white neck and watched their warm scarlet blood spring up merrily to the surface, only to trickle down and slowly pool onto the floor? I have... My name is Ragdoll, and I am completely innocent..."
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It was late. Around midnight. The usually busy streets of the city were deserted, and the blue-silver light of the full moon cast dark shadows everywhere. The soft clicking of heels could be heard, echoing through the alleyways and streets, seeming as loud as an explosion in the silence of the night. A girl was walking alone down the quiet streets. The footsteps heard were hers. She was wearing knee-high leather boots, thigh high black stockings with little read bows on them, a rather short red plaid skirt, and a red and black cincher. Mascara ran down her face, it was obvious that she had been crying. She was wearing black lip stick and her cheeks were carved into a sadistic smile, which had been crudely sewn shut with thick black stitches. There was a shiny red bow in her short black hair, the color red that matched the thick warm blood dripping from the shiny silver switchblade in her hand. She looked confused, and even with the gruesome scene: completely innocent.
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It was late. Around midnight. The usually busy streets of the city were deserted, and the blue-silver light of the full moon cast dark shadows everywhere. The soft clicking of heels could be heard, echoing through the alleyways and streets, seeming as loud as an explosion in the silence of the night. A girl was walking alone down the quiet streets. The footsteps heard were hers. She was wearing knee-high leather boots, thigh high black stockings with little read bows on them, a rather short red plaid skirt, and a red and black cincher. Mascara ran down her face, it was obvious that she had been crying. She was wearing black lip stick and her cheeks were carved into a sadistic smile, which had been crudely sewn shut with thick black stitches. There was a shiny red bow in her short black hair, the color red that matched the thick warm blood dripping from the shiny silver switchblade in her hand. She looked confused, and even with the gruesome scene: completely innocent.