Blood Redd

The Sun goes sinking behind the clouds,
Whispering touches of,
Evening: the dawn of Night.
Footsteps pitter down,
A unused, decrepit path,
Cloth rustleing in the wake,
Of every light-weight step.

Slight puffs of grey,
Hovering,
Lingering their life alone,
In the autumn air,
As the steps continue,
Upon fallen leaves,
An unknown ominous sign,
To the one crushing them.

A slithering scratch,
Of fabric on the ground,
A soft thud,
A body falling,
Redd pooling underneath.

A last gasp,
A begging cry,
Bloody tears,
Falling from empty eyes.

The glint of metal,
As the sun slips to the sky,
The culprit fleeing to,
Shadows.
Redd pools, endlessly pumping,
A heart slowing,
The once lightened eyes,
Dimming slowly.

The slithering of fabric,
A puff of grey in the night,
A cruel sneer on,
Painted lips.
A squeel of terror,
The struggle for life,
Before the pain.
The Redd begins to pool.

The Redd spurts out,
Like glowing embers in the,
Setting light of,
A once gold sun.
Dripping rubbies fall,
From a glitting metal,
Cleaned on a red-checked,
Kerchief,
Covering an innocent basket.

A last gasp,
A begging cry,
Bloody tears,
Falling from empty eyes.

Another body,
More fallen leaves,
Whispering their unheard warnings,
To the wind though,
Their voices are lost in,
The pooling of Redd.

A voice errupts,
In the silent dark of the,
Woods; the path long lost from shadows.
A cruel sneer,
A cackle more like,
The howl of a Wolf.

An inqusition, questions, suspicions,
An innocent smmile; cherubic laugh,
An alibi, an excuse,
An angel in a Redd cape.

A last gasp,
A begging cry,
Bloody tears,
Falling from empty eyes.

"Little Redd" the hoarse whisper,
"No, go away!" is the cry,
Then the little girl laughs,
And howls to the sky.