When I was a girl of about 5 my family and I had moved into a rather old house in a quiet little town in England. I immediatley hated the place. Everything was gray and drab and our neighbors unfriendly. I could not go out, for mother was strict, and so I had no friends at all. But then one day I met Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a girl of about my age who lived across from our house in a much older and grander house, though it was damaged and covered in vines. Elizabeth was very pale with black hair and green eyes. She always wore a ballerina outfit and her fingernails looked as though they had clawed through dirt. They were never clean. As I’ve said, I was never allowed out. Elizabeth came to me. She appeared out of nowhere in my bedroom and said she’d climbed through a window. She said I looked so lonely by myself and that she herself was lonely. So we became friends. She visited me everyday and we played and had tea parties. but each day i noticed something different about Elizabeth. Her skin was slowly turning from a milky white into a yellow, veiny-looking mesh. Her fingernails, when I looked closely, were not only filled with dirt but also with dried blood. And her smile seemed to slowly creep more upward, toward her ears. A little red creeping out from the crevices. And her eyes started fading from green into a paler green and seemed clouded over. But still I regarded her the same, as a kind and loving friend. The one day when she came by she seemed completely changed. Her eyes were sunken in and rimmed with a certain darkness. Her eyes were now almost clear and seemed crushed inward, one eye almost completely smashed. The corners from her mouth reached up to her ears and dried blood stained her cheeks. Her skin was yellow and she smelled of decay. Pieces of her flesh were falling off. Dried blood also stained her legs and she walked with a strange limp. “Come over to my house tonight”, she said to me. “I can’t”, I said, “mother will never allow it”. “Well then sneak out. I’d better see you there”. And with that she left. That night, I did sneak over to her house and opened the huge oak doors to the main room. I was frightened. Everything was dark and cold and smelled of decay. Then I saw in the middle of the room a twirling figure. It was Elizabeth. She was dancing towards me, only her flesh was more decayed and blood gushed from between her legs and mouth. Her eyes were completely crushed in, and I could see her tongue had been cut out. I was terrified. When she neared me she said, “I’ll always be you friend”, then smiled a wicked smile. A moment later she burst into flames and then I ran out. The next morning I snuck out again but this time I saw the whole house boarded up and so I made my way to the back to see if I could get in that way. The backyard was immensely huge and covered with gravestones. I found one that read, “ Elizabeth G. Wilson. Born 1882.-Died 1887.” I ran out of there and asked my mother about the house and the gravestones. “Oh my goodness! Well back in the 1800s the daughter of a wealthy business owner was raped, had her eyes crushed in, her tongue was cut off, and for extra measure her mouth was cut from ear to ear. Her uncle did that to her. For she was a very lovely little gir.” I still see her sometimes, that Elizabeth. She’s still twirls in her fire, smiling at me.
Credit To: Bernice Yepez