a gypsy woman rode into town. her carriage drawn by a strong steel grey horse. It was clear she was fixin' to keep to herself. she had a fierce look in her eyes. as her carriage continued its slow rolling pace, she slowly raised a brow. and before their eyes as she smiled fer face melted into a ravenous beauty. at once transformed. they no longer saw her age nor her wear, they were beholden to her gaze.
the horses seemed to slow their stride in unison as the woman leaned down towards a young blonde girl. she was extending a single yellow rose kissed by just a hint of pink and orange. the woman dipped to give her thanks. as she pulled the rose from the child, she closed her hand around her hand. for an instant she held it softly. but then, without warning she squeezed her her hand around the child's. closing tight around her soft and delicate little fingers. the gypsy releases her hand, smiling. she pulls her hands slowly upward toward to her growing smile. in anticipation the gypsy breathes in deeply, relishing in the aroma. the child sits crying, holding her bleeding hand.
the gypsy's carriage continues to move. dust slowly drifts up from the crunching rock and dusty ground. everyone remains still, frozen for the moment. one by one, those who bared witness, turned and walked away.
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