Wow - tha
t's really good!
The only short story I have is this, and I warn you, its weird:
It is late evening, the child runs out onto the moonlit green, searching for something in the lean grass, she had only the light of the moon to guide her as she gazes into the ground in melancholy. She swore she had it on her earlier, she swore to look after it, she swore she wouldnât lose it, but, as whenever we promise ourselves something, the worst always seems to happen.
It started with a doll, a small wooden doll her mother had given her. A dress of embroidered orange silk, the stitching on it as fine and golden as a thread of Rapunzels hair or the spun gold of that millers daughter who had given her word in exchange for a name, her tiny painted face relentlessly smiling in sympathy. Since then she had never managed to hold onto anything for long. Each precious gift would go missing in time, no matter how extensively she clung to it, as a spider clings its sticky, furred, legs to a painted wall. Someone had taken it, it had been there and now it was gone, she remembered it clear as day, even though the dim night had already crept in, had muted the daylight. Innocence has flushed from her cheeks into a guilty crimson. There was no end to her excuses.
After that it was an antique music box, engraved with her initials in the cursive script of an antique bible. The tune it played as the tiny figure turned and swirled and spiralled had sent chills down her spine whenever she heard it. After its elusive disappearance she had heard the tune again, sinister, at night, but only ever when her eyes were closed. She would reach out for it in longing, almost touching, her fingertips longing for the touch of the bitter, reassuring metal. Then it was gone. It started with a doll and it finished with a tiny golden ball.
Morning, the sun shone down, touching her ashen skin with its golden tendrils. Her father knew nothing about her missing gift; she knew it would break his ruby heart to hear of its disappearance. Sheâd searched and hunted all night with no luck. Maybe the vivid morning sun would cast its glow into the direction of her golden orb. Iâd do anything to get it back.
She looked into the horizon, scanning her eyes across the emerald earth. She could see the shape of something, developing in detail as it edged toward her. Movement, his thin body swerving and slithering towards her, his eyes as green as the ground he slipped across. His skin so smooth. You are looking for something, he whispered, his red tongue caressing the soft flesh of his inner cheek, looking for something I have. He unravelled his palm like a spring bud opening to the sun, and there it was, growing and shrinking in his fleshy hold, the light ebbing and flowing off of it like the scales of an iridescent water-snake stirring below the surface of azure waters. Take it. Green omniscient eyes embraced her body, her breathing slows, her blood feels as though it is trickling through her body like the fresh, cool stream that ran beside her. She reached out, just as she had in her dreams, the same soft fingertips, the same enchanting tune, the same cool touch. His lips met hers. Inhaling the warm breath from her lungs. The blood drained from her eyes.
She hugged the floor, her fingernails gripping to the hard earth, the world was spinning, she was falling, the gravity pulled her further down. A single tear flew from her eye into the sky. Then, she slept.
He curled his body around her, jaws wide. The scales of his cracked skin rubbed against hers. A glow of a beady eye. A flick of a red tongue. A flash of those white-hot raw teeth, jagged and roughen. He engulfed her. And slinked away.
Fran 
:hearts :brownbunny
