letters to a dead girl

rotting corpse

dear horcrux experiment number 4,

i visited your grave today. i don't know what i was thinking. my stomach was full of spite and bitterness and satisfaction, and the feelings reared up my throat and clawed their way out like the snake i am. you always said if i lived as an animal, i would be a snake.

i don't know what i was expecting, but the grave was plain besides the bugs, and so i decorated it with your favorite flowers. beautiful red roses. rotting and dead just like you. i sat and i watched where you lied beneath the grave for hours. almost waiting for a rotting version of you to climb up from the ground and give me a charming smile before spouting out some nonsense. i suppose you might be bones now. a rattling skeleton like the ones in the halloween stores.

do a dance for me?

i'm not laughing at you. i like to think we're laughing together. that you'd help me clean my hands and the sink as i washed away your blood. then again, my psych might be more damaged than i thought.

in your will, it states although we hadn't been seeing each other (plotting one's ultimate death) long, you would give me all the books you had collected from your interest in philosophy. it's caused me many feelings over the months- anger at something so trivial, annoyance it's not a book on how to get blood off of my nice shoes, flattery that you even included me. flattery didn't last long before being overpowered by ego- masterful manipulation will get you gifts.

books will do me no good. the wretched ideas i never asked for have sprouted and grown in my head like poison oak. a dead girl's revenge? for all the nonsense you spoke you never struck me as the vengeful type.

then again number 4, we never knew each other long.

save me a dance in whatever afterlife there is,
tom riddle