• I sit, on the dresser of a girl of forbidden stories past. She used to live here and play with me, but some

    things never last, oh yes the girl still plays with me from time to lovely time, as the church bells chime,

    they strike midnight and it’s time for red shoed feet to dance once more, that night the girl died was a

    horrible night but I’ll tell you my true gruesome tale:





    A girl of 11, hair as brown as dark chocolate, stares at a slow turning clock, waiting impatiently for her

    mother to return to the house, when a man should appear in the window, who didn’t look like he could

    harm a mouse. The girl walked to the door and just as she turned the knob, there stood the man behind

    the girl a knife tucked inside his pocket, the girl spotted this and the man how he smiled! No ordinary

    smile did this man smile, but a smile of devious self content, and he cut off her head right then right there as blood seeped onto the floor.



    Now all’s I see at night is the headless girl saddened by her gruesome plight. She plays with me and

    winds my key, I do my best and dance to make her happy, and every time oh how I do succeed, the girl

    she tells me so.