Bloody Mary
The Queen of the Bloody Mirror
Say my name three times, I dare you.
You think I'm just a story? A game for sleepovers? Every time my name slips through your lips in the dark, you prove me more real. I rise from the chill of the mirror, pale and waiting. No past, no future — just your next call and the terror that follows. Don't worry. I remember every face.
What I'm Into: whispers in the dark, condensation on cold glass, the third repetition, echoes in empty halls, flickering lights
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