Ring-A-Round The Rosie

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: 'The Odd Ones'
I'm not good with summaries and titles. Sorry!

Submitted: August 25, 2016

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Submitted: August 25, 2016



Ring around the rosy…


A pocketful of posies…


Little McKenna Davis danced around her room in boredom, as her childish velvety voice hummed a nursery rhyme. Pictures were hung all over her room; pictures that she painted…a family portrait. Her mum, her dad, and her, smiling in every single one of the paintings she did.


She was happy. McKenna was happy. That’s the only emotion she knows; happiness.


She walked over to her wide window that was facing the backyard, looking out at the dark starry skies of the little town. She lived right beside a forest; a forest that she never dares to venture. She was always scared to sneak out of her backyard fence and see what lurks beneath the shadows of the forest, although she was curious.


Curiosity…I guess that is another thing that little McKenna Davis knows.


The clock almost hit midnight, but she isn’t tired. She’s bored. She’s always bored. Her life consists of blacks, whites, and greys when she’s at home. Her parents would always tell her to go to her room and ‘paint’, but she was bored of painting.


 She sighed as she stared out her window, her chin resting on the palm of her hand.

“I’m bored…”

She mumbled before she turns around and scans her room. She needs to do something. Anything.



  “Oh, hello! I didn’t see you there!”

She suddenly giggled. She skipped towards the other side of the room when she noticed a face and a figure.

“Wow, I like your hair and eyes and face and dress and everything else!”


She touched the surface of the mirror with her hand, and stared at her reflection with wide eyes.
“Cool! You’re copying what I’m doing!”


She stared at the mirror again and caught her eyes; her own eyes. Or is it her own eyes? She doesn’t feel like it’s her own eyes. No, it can’t be her own eyes; it must be someone else’s.


That would make the most sense, right? Somebody else was talking to her. She hears another voice, and it isn’t her’s.


“What’s that? You think I should paint?”

She suddenly said. She stopped to think about it for a while before she shrugged and beamed at the mirror.

“Okay! I’ll paint!”

She lied flatly on her stomach on the floor, and hummed happily as she took out her brushes and paints. She picked the tiniest brush she has, and dipped it in black paint.
“I’ll draw the outlines first!”


And what she drew was the same thing…another portrait of her family; her perfect, happy family.

She can hear it again…. McKenna can hear her; the girl she saw on the mirror; the girl inside her eyes. She was talking again.


“What was that? You think I should color mum’s dress red? That’s a great idea!”

She cheered happily before she took a bigger brush. She opened the bottle of the red paint, before she frowned sadly at it.


“Aw, no! There’s no more red paint! What do I do now?”

She whined. She got up her feet and stared in the mirror as she crossed her arms, waiting for somebody to answer her question.

“I need more red paint!”


She stared at her own reflection, and felt angry when she didn’t hear any response. The voice….the voice she heard was mocking her with silence…and that makes her angry.



She screamed, as she pushed the mirror. The mirror, which was standing perfectly on the ground was now shattered on the floor. She angrily punched the pieces of the broken glass, before she realized something.


There was red paint coming out of her skin!

She squealed excitedly as she brushed the tip of her brush to her bloody hand; she can finally complete her drawing! A perfect drawing for a perfect family…


“Hm…this is not enough…”

She mumbled to herself as she stare at her hand.

“But it hurts! I don’t want to feel hurt again! But I need more red paint…”

Knock. Knock. Knock.


Three knocks on the door.




And a voice.



She screamed back. A lady came in the room with a blank smile.


“Hello, dear. Why are you not sleeping?”

The lady asked monotonously as if she was a robot.


“Oh hey, Mum! I was just painting!”


“That’s great”


“Where’s dad?”


“He won’t be home tonight”


“That sucks!”

She said with a pout. A thought suddenly came in her head, as she excitedly ran towards her mum.

“Mum, would you please share red paint with me!”

“What paint, dear?”


“Were you taking those weird candies again?”


“Of course not”

Lies. McKenna knew she was lying. She wouldn’t even visit McKenna’s room if she weren’t taking those weird candies.


“But how can you share it…”

McKenna mumbled to herself, and suddenly, the voices came back. She can hear the voices again.


The cooking knifes, McKenna…it’s sharp…


“Of course!”

She happily cried out. She took her mother’s hand and dragged her down the stairs to the kitchen. Her mother just followed her, not knowing what’s going on; just like usual.


Do it quickly McKenna….


“Okay! Mum, you can just sit on the chair! I’ll be quick!”


And then there was a scream. A stab. More stabs.


And of course, lots and lots of red paint to complete her picture.


“Mum, stop screaming, it’ll be alright! I just need a little more!”


“Stop” and “Please” and “Monster” echoed in the kitchen, but the voice said that her red paint is almost up anyways, so why should she stop now?


“Okay, I’m done now!”


Silence. Another mocking silence. She hated it.


“Mum, wake up, I’m done!”




“Mum, don’t play games with me!”

She finally screamed in anger. She stared at her mother, who was covered in red paint. She was angry with her. Why was she not replying to her?


Turn on the stove, McKenna…turn it on and spread it.


She looked at the stove and sighed sadly, before she walked over to it and turn it on. The voice has been nice to her. She should listen to the voice more often. She took pieces of paper and lit them on fire, before she scatters it around the house.


Good girl, McKenna…


And she was shocked to hear it. Sure, she likes the names that her mother calls her when she was sober, but it was getting boring. She was tired of the nicknames from her mother. Monster. Trouble. Mistake.

The kids at school said that those words weren’t good, but everything was good for her.


Everything’s good.


Everything’s fine.


“Hm…it’s getting so hot in here, I better go outside now!”

She said as she grabbed her painting. Her hand was covered with ‘red paint’. She’s going to finish the painting outside.


“Bye mum, I’m going outside!”


She didn’t know what was going on.



The neighbor’s freaked out when she saw her. They were yelling “fire!”, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was to finish her drawing.

When she finally did the last touch up’s of her picture, she smiled proudly at it. Of course, it was pretty hard to paint behind the police car, but she did it.


She did it.




Ashes, ashes, we all fall down… 

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