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Cracks by Living Dead Man

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Going through her mother’s things won’t be easy, and she dreads it. She resolves not to cry, but cracks when she sees the box. #FP

She examines the hard wood, traces her fingers over the clasp, the key long-lost. She feels perceivable cracks in the old metal lock. #FP

With excitement and trepidation, she cracks the box open and peers inside, her mind reeling with all the possible secrets it may keep. #FP

An expressionless porcelain mask stares back at her with hollow eyes. Her will cracks and she touches it, her mother’s warnings ignored. #FP

She never remembers wearing it, but her psyche cracks over weeks and months as her mind tries to reconcile the fragmented memories. #FP

Every time she opens the box, she sees new cracks formed in the porcelain. Each blemish bleeds perpetually, the memory of her victims. #FP

Her fingers grip his hair and push his head back. The knife flashes twice, and cracks open in his neck, like the damaged porcelain mask. #FP

With that final victim, the mask cracks in two, falling from her face. She gingerly places the red-stained shards back into the old box. #FP

Her debt paid, she places a new lock on the box and tucks it away.
“What’s that, Mommy?”
“Never open it,” she warns as her voice cracks. #FP

Twitter: @Reckoner67