Doll Face 

Dainty features hand-painted, with the details only the darkness could bestow. Frilly lace garments all in a quite coquette fashion. Little doll face, with little delicate doll features, dainty eyes lashes, flawless complexion. A perfect little picture of pretty porcelain. A lovely little doll with candy red dripping down her shiny glass face. A pretty little doll with a pretty lacey dress now splattered with blood.

 Her little doll face never looked so happy. The shiny little knife manically plunged into the heart of her merciful victim again, and again. She’s an artist, she’s creating, she’s morphing, she cuts this cadaver into art. The knife plunges again, she drags it down the stomach, ripping the skin down like a cat climbing down fabric. She yanks out the intestines, wrapping, draping them on herself as necklaces and boas. Spinning with her new decorations. Dancing merrily round and round. Gracefully stepping around fingers and skin, waving her new toys in the air. Little red footprints coat the floor. 

She plummets to her back, her dress laying out around her, sponging up the fluids. Spread on the floor, she starts moving her limbs side to side, making a snow angle-like motion, a smile so lovely it could win awards. They lay side to side a life-less doll and a life stripped of living.