"Hello." She says, grabbing your hand.
"Hi." You say back.
The little girl looked about 6, maybe 7. She acted as if you two were best friends. She pulled you along walking this way, and that. She talked only breifly, and when she did she sounded faint, as if she was whispering to you across a crowded street.
She took you to an ally just past some old taverns and bars. This wasn't a place that a little girl should be, not even you should have been there.
At the end of the ally, there was a blazing fire lit in an old garbage can. Some old bums most have left it going. The girl sees the fire, and finds it interesting. She goes towards it, and sticks her little arm right down into the barrel. You quickly grab her, and try to pull her away. But she kicks you, with force that a normal little girl wouldn't have. The blow knocks you to the ground, and you stare at the child.
"See." She says. "It doesn't hurt. Being dead doesn't hurt." You see her jump into the burning barrel, and she is gone.
You get up, and run away. That wasn't a child, you say to yourself, that was a demond.
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