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As he flipped through the pages of the life of a girl, once lost long ago forgotten and undisturbed. The story flashed before him, Animated pictures in his mind, He felt sorry for the life that Margaret Wilson had to find.
As he read the terrific happenings that took place many years ago, Sent cold shivers down his spine and his weak heart skipping beats. But that didn't stop him from scanning through the old notepad, Now tattered and dismantled with the life Margaret Wilson had.
The bloodshed and the tears, screams of agony that reverbed in his ears and in his fears as blades whistled in the flesh. But little did he know that Margaret Wilson stood below Under his bed in the dark As he read her diary with a spark.
It was then he heard the shallow breathes of someone sitting beside him on the bed. Frightened and surely afraid, He turned around to find a cascade of dark brown hair that hid a bloodshot gaze, Watching still as his heart began to race. Yet the poor boy didn't know After Margaret Wilson he was next in the row.
