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The silver flash of the knife as it went flying through the air. The drip, drip, drip of blood from its serrated edge. The howling laughter of the girl with the grey eyes, hiding in the shadows. The screams and cries of distraught kids passing by. The tip of the knife protruding out of the mouth of its target, handle embedded in the top of her head, covered in layers of long mahogany hair. The thud of flesh on concrete as the young girl fell, assorted candy spraying out in an arc behind her. The lone hysterical cry of “That’s mahogany!” meaning bitterly twisted by the horror of their context. The sparkling gold of a mockingjay pin, twinkling in the darkness. The look of surprise, fading to a dull sheen as she hit the pavement. Lonely. Helpless. Dead.
The silver flash of the knife as it went flying through the air. The drip, drip, drip of blood from its serrated edge. The howling laughter of the girl with the grey eyes, hiding in the shadows. The screams and cries of distraught kids passing by. The tip of the knife protruding out of the mouth of its target, handle embedded in the top of her head, covered in layers of long mahogany hair. The thud of flesh on concrete as the young girl fell, assorted candy spraying out in an arc behind her. The lone hysterical cry of “That’s mahogany!” meaning bitterly twisted by the horror of their context. The sparkling gold of a mockingjay pin, twinkling in the darkness. The look of surprise, fading to a dull sheen as she hit the pavement. Lonely. Helpless. Dead.
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