Memories
It was her, broken face and all, dressed like some picture book queen.
She swallowed.
“The queen must die,” isn't that what the ghost said?.
Without sight of any knife in the mirror the image began to bleed from the neck. She raised her hand to feel the sticky warm fluid about her throat. She screamed; the image laughed. In a blink she was in dirty jeans once more, facing the ghoul. “Choose a card.”
Nuella shook her head mutely. She'd been here an hour tops, or this was some nightmare. She breathed. It wasn't real, how could it be.