By Han Le
She strode the hills, snow piling onto her butterfly lashes,
Humming a haunting tune.
A wolf approaches her, and she stops.
The hills grow silent.
The wolf stares at the girl in amazement.
“How does a maiden survive the harsh weather?”
The girl with the velvet black hair curtsied slowly.
“What large eyes you have.”
The wolf stares into her faint grey eyes, hypnotized
She approaches the beast, her hair flying around like a tornado.
She cuts the throat, then the chest. She rips out the heart.
The snow stained itself red.
A large gust of wind pierces her skin.
The porcelain doll’s red cape flies off her, fading into the bloody snow.
She smiles to reveal sharp teeth behind pale lips.
And walks away.