“Bah, bah, black sheep. Have you any wool?”

The child’s light tune echoed out in the darkness like a haunting lullaby, ghostly bouncing off of the close-quarter walls to give the effect that it was more than one child singing. The giggling was the same though it somehow sounded while the chilly words were sung. Something tapped the floor with a rhythm, a club of wood adding a ‘tap tap’ between each short dragging sound. Tap, tap, and drag. Tap, tap, and drag…

“Yes sir. Yes sir. Three bags full.”

There were distorted rectangles of moonlight stretched in intervals of darkness on the opposite wall, a shadow of a head and little shoulders passing them leisurely. More lingering giggles bursted from this figure like a macabre orchestra, the beaten bat a conducting stick to keep in time. In her other hand, there were two lumpy shadows that dangled from her fingers by strings. The child didn’t seem to notice the dark atmosphere she gave off and if she did, she was enjoying it immensely. Her black shoes just continued to bring her to the other end of the hallway, to the only door that was closed in this hall. Her bat nudged the door open after turning the knob, letting the entryway ease clear with a creaking groan from the old hinges. There was only darkness beyond that, another rectangle of the moon’s light casting dim illumination onto the furniture inside. The edges of a disheveled bed, a night stand with a toppled over lamp on the floor in pieces, a dresser with all of the drawers full of clothes spilled all over the place, a huddled what-ever-that-was in the corner of the room. What a mess. The girl sauntered over to the patch of light, stopping right before it and facing the corner.

“One for the master.”

One of the heads fell to the tan colored carpet with a wet thud, rolling a bit towards the edge of the large lit rectangle. The face was bloodied and bruised, purple splotches on the pale face with the lip busted and an eye swollen nearly shut. Tendons and meat from the neck glistened with the still fresh blood, sunken eyes looking forward with dull pupils. The head was that of the man of the house and his ruling blood speckled the floor of his room.

“One for the dame.”

The second head bounced off the floor, her long hair matted with her and her lover’s blood, rolling to stop next to the man’s noggin. Her nose was busted into her skull, dark little streams of crimson crossing over her swollen lip and to her chin. Circles of bruising blackness encircled both of her once pretty eyes, now only hollow sockets stared out eternally. Her mouth gaped open enough for her purple tongue to hang out, smearing the red lipstick even more.

And the little boy could do little more than stare with such wide eyes, shivering in utter horror and fear as the lifeless eyes of his parents stared back at him. A pathetic whimper left him as he huddled more to the corner he put himself in, covering his eyes with his dirtied hands. He didn’t want to see any more of this nightmare. He just wanted the evening to return to the lovely setting of his parents and him playing cards by the fireplace after supper. Why did everything go so awry? Did the devil love his family so? Where was god in this catholic house of devout church goers?

There is no God. A voice within the mind of the boy whispered to him, the giggling of the girl before him bouncing around the room in a hypnotic manner. The dents in the wooden bat that tapped the ground were filled with dried blood, the end of the club blackened from blows swung. His eyes followed the motion of the bat for a few moments, before they traveled up the dress sleeve of this devil-girl.

Her dress was quite pretty, if it weren’t for the blood stains. There were frills at the wrists and neckline, lace stitching down to the bottom of the bodice where the dress would then fan out and end around the stocking of the girl’s knees. She looked like every other girl that lived on this street, except for the splotches of black and red. She was actually sort of pretty, the boy noted, until his eyes traveled up to the girl’s face frightfully. Then his heart froze with dread, dropping to his stomach. Oh, god, her face. This was not the face of a young girl. This wasn’t even the face of a human.

“And one for the little boy...” Her grin was full of terrible meaning, shark-tooth teeth clicking slightly as that oddly angelic voice chimed the words. Those bulging doll-like eyes were fixed onto the trembling form of the boy, her bat tapping along to her words against the floor.

The crack that ran diagonally down from hairline to jaw chipped, the bottom half of her skin flaking off like it was nothing more than dry clay. Underneath the guise was a mangled mess of black muscle tissues crawling with little white maggots, small spiders creeping over her face to disappear into her pretty hair. The grin on that side of her face stretched far too wide to be well intended, a glint in those buggishly huge eyes. Her bat stopped the dully tapping against the floor, the blackened end resting with an eerie peace among the clothing strewn haphazardly across the floor. Then the instrument of mayhem was raised, high above the demon girl’s head like a beacon of gore in the darkness. Her giggling rang in the boy’s ears, who shrank back into his corner with his hands up in a feeble defense.

“Who lived down the lane~” The girl sang, a series of mechanical sounding clicks going off in her neck like a musicbox struggling to keep its wind going. Her short statue shook, like the joints were too tight for the force the next motion would have.

The boy screamed, his shrill voice echoing out the room and racing down the halls like he wished his feet could. The mouse cornered himself, though, and the cat wouldn’t let her little mouse flee like that. Not after all her hard work. A whistle in the air sounded under the screams, a wet drum being beat with its club. Wicked pops and cracking noises followed after every other beat, the screaming rising higher in between whimpers and cries. The girl giggled, the octaves climbing up to inhuman levels as the echoes melded together in a symphony of insanity. Soon, though, much too soon, the screaming and the whimpering would quiet into a dreadful silence. The girl stopped beating her broken drum and dropped her bat so that it landed on a woman’s corset on the floor, fresh blood staining the grain and the fabric. Bulging eyes watched for any movement of the boy, giggling when not even his shattered ribcage moved for breath.

The rectangle of light cast a shine of a knife the girl brought out from some hidden pocket, the ragged saw-tooth edges flecked with dried crimson. The girl stepped into the light and crossed the shape onto the shadows beyond it, kneeling down in the corner with the unmoving boy. Her fingers gently caressed the boy’s dark hair, smoothing it down using his own blood as a sort of gel. His eyes were wet with tears, though the dimness of death had now forever veiled his sight. He looked so pretty with his new bruises and sores and cuts; that bat doing an excellent job with his appearance. The girl’s hand stopped its petting, fingers now digging into the matted hair and to the scalp for a firm grip. The boy’s head was propped up and the knife was brought down, signaling the start of the outro to this opera of madness. A series of wet ripping and squelching sounded in the darkness of the room, a dark pool of ever-darker shadows emerging on the carpet in that corner.

“Bah, bah, Blacksheep. Have you any wool?”

The girl giggled, a few of the maggots from the uncovered part of her face falling on the lifeless body in front of her. Her final prize was in her small hands as she stood up from the bloodied ground, her chesire-wide grin widening impossibly more. The impious knife remained embedded in the heart of the boy’s chest, the blade sunken deep into the body of the little lamb. The girl stooped to pick up the two other heads that were on the floor, all three of them dangling from her fingers by the hair. She started to giggle until the clicking in her neck interrupted the ghastly sound, a haunting melody replacing the laughter. Her footsteps echoed in the hall as the bedroom door slowly closed after her with a final groan and click.

The family of heads swung to and fro in her hand as the demon started to slightly skip to the darkness on the other end. The dull sounds of skulls knocking adding a wonderfully morbid rhythm to the song she sang to herself. She would look at the spaces of walls in between open doorways with those large eyes, amused by the splatter artworks of blood on them. Looking forward again, she would ignore the eerily slow closing of each door she had passed. Each shutting with a mournful click of their locks.

A bloodied figure of a small girl disappeared into the eternal darkness that plagued this end of hall, the heads winking out of sight one by one.

“Yes sir. Yes sir. Three bags full...”