"Look at me Veronica!"

Your little sister shouted, stomping around in a pair of too-big stiletto heels like a T-Rex.

You tried not to roll your eyes and drolled with as much kindness as you could muster, "Cool."

Your attempt at looking interested had apparently failed, since your sister pouted her small, pink, bottom lip.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" She murmured pitifully

"I'm not being mean," you replied, "I just don't care about the shoes."

"That IS being mean Veronica. You don’t care about anything I do."

"Just let me do my work Maya." From your spot on the rug, you could see Maya's loving eyes begin to spout tears. You looked her over and noticed the shoes she was wearing. "Maya, didn't Aunty tell you not to touch her high heels? Take them off right now!"

"Oh so now you care what shoes I'm wearing?!" your sister shot back.

You reached for the stalk of the blood-colored heel, just as Maya turned to walk away.

"Hey!"

"Come back Maya!"

The shoe had come off your sister's foot, and she now hobbled towards the stairs at the end of the hallway. You stood to chase after her. Maya, hearing your footsteps, began to run. You lunged at the shoes, hoping to trip your sister. After you collided with the hard wood floor the shining crimson heel is in hand, but minus your sister's tiny foot. That tiny foot, and it's tiny body, tumbled down the stairs, in a sprawl of limbs and agonized yelps.

You laughed at the comical circumstances of your sister's fall, at the shocked face she made when you grabbed the glittering red shoe. You rise and call her name.

"Maya?"

"Maya?!"

"Maya are you ok?"

An eerie silence seemed to ooze from the quiet stairwell.

It coated Maya's body in earthshaking silence.

You ran down the stairs to your sister's still form.

A crystalline fear creeps up your esophagus.

You see blood gathering on the finished oak panels, mixing with Maya's blonde hair, coating the back of her neck. Regret and guilt immediately rush to fill the space your sister once filled in your heart. You've killed her. You've killed your only little sister, over an old shoe. The gaping, teared seam where her vocal cords were spewed filthy blood, mingling with spittle from Maya's still open mouth. Time seems to drip by as slowly as the drool falling in bubbly strings from your sister's mangled body. "Maya! Veronica!" Your aunt calls, "It's time to cut the birthday cake!" A pair of heels snapped their way up a second stairway. "You don't want to turn 8 without cake do you Ma-"

The banshee like scream of your aunt rattled through the house, erasing the silence. You began to sob violently, heaving and clawing at your face. Maya was dead, and it was all your fault. Your aunt was yelling at the ceiling, cradling the limp head of your sister. Slowly the shattered pieces of the world began to crawl back together. Your sobs ceased and your aunt's wails grew silent. "I know what we have to do." your aunt whispered. "What?" you questioned "What's could we possibly do?". Eyes glazed, your aunt doesn't answer the question. Maybe your aunt was in denial. That was the first stage of grief, after all, but it seemed too soon. Heels clicking down the stairs, you followed your aunt to the guest room where she was staying. If there was a slight chance to help you sister, you'd take it, even if your aunt might be just plain crazy. Your aunt began rummaging through her exotic book collection, the spines covered with calligraphy from another tongue. Finally she stopped at an ancient looking leather-bound tome. The front of the book was bedecked with gold thread embossing that formed patterns and symbols you'd never seen before. Throwing the book open, your aunt's eyes roamed the pages, searching for something. You moved to stand behind your aunt, glancing again at the symbols. One of them was a large star inside a circle, and it was eerily familiar. Peering at the pages you see more calligraphy and images of people, rams, and fire. Still hastily scanning the tome, your aunt stops at a page with another circled star. She then opened a bureau drawer and pulled out an old switchblade. The handle was dulled with age, but the blade shinked when your aunt flicked it open. "What is all this for?" you thought "None of this will help Maya." Seemingly ignorant of your prescence, your aunt picked up the book and blade in her hands, then rushed back upstairs. Snap, snap, snap went her heels. You feel the dried tears on your cheeks as you followed her up the stairs. You stopped over the still warm body of your sister. Your aunt dropped the book on the oakwood floor; knelt to the ground; grabbed your sisters corpse, and slit it's throat. The somewhat crusty blood rolled down her neck and into your aunt's open hand. She smeared the liquid into the shape of a six-pointed star, then a circle around it. Picking up the book she began to chant in a haunting gravelly voice. The words jarbled together in a cacaphony of sound. The hair on your arms and neck rose to meet the electric chanting. The body of your little sister began to rise off the ground, and hovered above your aunt's head. The dead corpse's eyes and mouth opened, spewing ghostly red light. The bones under her skin twitched and popped, then snapped back upright. The blood began to rise from the circle. It rose in droplets, flowing back into your sister's body. The lights in the crystal chandelier overhead flickered. Suddenly, the body dropped to the floor. Slowly raising it's head, it stared at your face. Grinning, it prattled, "Heyyeyeye VerrrrrrrronicA."