Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26169026-20150326002354

Author's note: The date is 3/25/15... I wrote this last night when I couldn't sleep. For some reason, the words "Little Lucy" kept running in my head over and over until I wrote this. It was something I needed to get out. So here it is.

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Little Lucy was sad. She was crying because she knew she had to bang her head against the concrete wall by her house. She didn't know why. She just had to.

Then an older boy saw what Little Lucy was doing and tried to stop her from hurting herself anymore. He pulled her away from the wall, into his arms. He then pulled out his phone to call for help.

Little Lucy also liked to play with knives. She wrapped her arma around the boy and shivered in anticipation. The boy didn't realize what she was going to do until he felt the blade go into his back. Once. Twice. Three times, before he collapsed and bled out. His phone call went unfinished.

Little Lucy wasn't so sad anymore even though she knew she had to go back to hanging her head on the wall again. She was even able to smile before she felt the pain.

Sirens could be heard in the distance. They were quickly approaching. When they arrived, they were met with a grisly scene. The boy's blood was everywhere, including all over Little Lucy's dress. As for Little Lucy, she had finally collapsed from banging her head one too many times. Her brain could be seen seeping out through a crack in her forehead.

Poor Little Lucy. 