The Little Girl in Black

The Little Girl in Black

I once saw, in the stark drafty night, a ghostly face of ancient youth. It was at the precise moment of being lost in time. I saw her for only a moment, although her gaze still haunts me to this day, and it probably will forever.

She stood in the corner. The dark corner was lightly doused by the light of the moon. Her big black eyes looked down at first, then they slowly creeped up at you as if she first noticed you, and stared into your soul. That exact moment, when our gaze locked in the darkness, I felt the rush of evil fill my soul: the evil she lives, sees, and breathes. The connected gaze lasted for not even a second, but it felt like eternity. An eternity of darkness as vast as the deep ocean. She never blinked. Her dress was black with a dirty lace collar. She had a dead rose clutched in her cracked hands that were lined with dry blood. It was only a small blink of time. Her dark hair was falling out of its loose curls, and she wore a headband made of black velvet and peacock feathers. I felt sheer terror at the sight of her. She peered into my soul….she could see everything. I rubbed my eyes. When I looked back to that corner, she was gone. The lightning flashed. I quickly looked to the window and saw the first droplet of rain dance through the air. I saw a shadow move past the last lamp post on the lane. It was the shadow of a little girl. All that remained of this strange encounter was the stale, cold air where she once lurked.