Peace

(c) Original Artist. All images remain the property of their creator.

Peace

This is an urban legend I heard a while back. I can’t find the original source so I apologise for the lack of credit.

There was once a small boy, about seven or eight years of age. One day he was playing alone in the woods when he found a photograph. In it was a very pretty girl around his age making a peace sign with her fingers. He took it home, cleaned it up and put it on his dresser. He couldn’t stop staring at the photograph, he would often return to it during the day and eventually slipped it into his pocket so it could always be close to him. He wished he could find the girl as he felt they would be great friends and as the day drew on he began to feel sad that it could never happen.

 That night he was lying in bed when he heard a soft scratching on his window. He got up and peeked around the curtains and found that crouched outside on the windowsill was the girl from the photograph. She smiled at him and beckoned for him to follow. She jumped from the windowsill down onto the road below and stood there, still gesturing to him to follow. He was frightened now; his room was on the third floor and he knew there was no way he could jump from that height without injuring himself.

He closed the curtains and went back to bed. Through the night he heard more scratching, but this time he ignored it. When he woke in the morning he looked at the photograph on his bedside table and began to regret not following her the night before. That morning his mother and father seemed to be in bad moods and frequently snapped at him until he retreated to his room. Instead of playing with his toys he spent his time looking at the photograph and wishing he had gone away with her since his family wouldn’t miss him at all. He wondered if she might come again that night and began to feel excited.

He went to bed very early that night, something barely noticed by his parents. Around one am he heard that familiar scratching on the window and this time he sprang eagerly out of bed. He found the girl sitting on his windowsill again and she repeated her actions from the previous night. This time he snuck downstairs and unlocked the back door. He crept outside to the road where the girl had been standing.

He saw her waiting across the other side of the road, beckoning to him. He hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t allowed to cross the road on his own. Eventually his desire to be with her overcame his reticence and he stepped out into the road.

About halfway across he noticed that the girl didn’t look exactly as she had before. Her smile which had previously seemed sweet now looked more like a nasty smirk. Her noticed that her pretty white dress was ripped and torn in several places and looked dirty; like she’d been rolling around in the mud. Her glossy hair was now tangled rats tails and her skin had an unnatural pallor. There was also something very frightening about her eyes, which glittered unnaturally in the darkness.

At that moment a car turned the corner and the driver had too little warning to avoid the small boy who was standing in the middle of the road, seemingly in a trance. The child was killed on impact.

Sometime later some of his possessions were returned to his parents. In his pockets he’d had a few army men, a small polished stone and a photograph. In the photograph was a very pretty girl of around seven or eight holding up three fingers. 

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