Speaks of red littered the white blanket that lay upon the forest, blond hair in waves upon the earth. Her eyes are no longer open, she can no longer hear. Her heart no longer beats with the tempo of this world. Her lips now are cold, as they begin to change from their warm pink to a cold blue. The soul has left its mold and floats in the air above, all because the man laid her in the snow.
Beauty has been stifled, sunshine darkened. Innocence taken and humanity lost, hearts broken and tears falling. Mothers weeping and fathers angered, siblings spiraling and lover retching.
Women taken away from lives they knew. Greed has made man into beast. Life becomes death. Fingers are curled around into a fist, a defense that never kept. Three have gone and three more to come.
The father read his daughters note, tears falling. His once small child now a corpse in his arms, nothing left but a worn note. Her words once childish now as holy as the bible, her life now a tale of deception and regret. The man who toke his baby was now long gone, and the father wept all night long.
Mother combed the limp hair, tears dropping on the cadaver. Her blue irises had disappeared, leaving only behind the whites. Her child was now gone, in a brutal way that was surely not of God. The mother holding what remained of the beauty in black braids, for in her lap laid the girl, who only had but a waist. Her lower body was gone, and the upper mangled. Blood still dripped from the remains but mother never let go. The lover held his child, keeping away from his wife’s remains. For in his eyes if he did not see, did not believe she would come bouncing through the wooden cabin door.
Children play in snow banks unaware, that a ways away laid the Sunday teacher. Her once warm smile was now a look of pure terror. Her heart had burst and seeping through her white and blue gown was the blood. Her body was whole, not that it mattered. For she was alone in this town, no one to hold her body still no one to whisper sweet sorrows in her deaf ear, none to morn or to pray. All alone in the world of fate, no mother, nor father, unable to carry children, the world had robbed her of everything. She no longer sang in the church halls after mass. She could no longer bring bread to the man who could not see.
Three angels had been sent to God, their murderer still at large. Innocent blood now lay on his hands. He took three angels from their home. Three lives came to an end shortly after.
The grief stricken lover could no longer stand the sadness within his breaking heart. He could no longer pretend. The child would always cry. The nights were lonely and his tears were gone. His soul had been ripped away. His life had gone with the slice of the blade. Hurt he took the rope, kissed his child while she slept. And the lover broke his neck.
The mother watched the children play, her heart full of hate. Angry was she at the man who took. She took the blade and watched the light, as she turned it. The cold steal that pierced her child, would now fix what had been broken. In life they could no longer, in death they were eternal. She stabbed the blade into her chest, turned the hilt thrice round. She fell with a smile upon her lips.
His life could not go on, the only kindness he’d ever felt was taken. She never looked down on him. Never turned away from his malformed figure. She had loved what others could only hate. In the pubs he heard a man, speak ill of the angel. Angered he stood and waded through the drunks. The man with red eyes now looked at the malformed man. He snickered. The man could not stand the disgust. He took his hand, and crushed and crushed. The life left the man, no air to come through, the heart burst. The man knelt down and asked for forgiveness, yet God only stayed silent.
Evil had brought pain, angels had fallen and innocence was taken all because one man grabbed hold of the blade.