Her fiery red dress twirled in a blaze as Miranda danced, spinning around the circle, lit only by the meekest appearance of the moon and the fire lit torches. On occasion, Miranda spun so wildly, her dress nearly caught the flame. Her bare feet bled from the rough ground but still she danced. Her olive skin glistened as her ebony hair plastered her face as her wild, dark eyes shone like black diamonds.
Finally, at the first glimpse of dawn, Miranda collapsed at the feet of a young man. Grinning madly, he cradled her in his arms as the crowd dispersed, some with relief etched over their wisened faces.
Looking anxiously up at the approaching day, Miranda knew time was short. And hunger raged deep within her.
“Come, I have a nice room,” Carlos said, trying to lift her.
“No, here,” Miranda replied, rooted to the spot. If Carlos had taken time to look upon Miranda, he would have seen her feet disappear into the earth, her legs become a brittle stem of thorns. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her mouth to his, stifling his cry as her body stiffened. Thick thorns tore through her dress, stabbing into Carlos like he was a pincushion. His blood flowed through the thorns, feeding her as she grew. Her tendrils entwined him in a vice, devouring his soft skin and flesh to a pulp. Carlos could do nothing but watch his body slowly dissolve as her hair enveloped his face, before turning into tendrils of thorns, seeking out the soft flesh inside his skull
As the sun rose, it looked down upon a parched earth where the only moisture surrounded what looked like a decaying tree stump and its branches of plump, crimson thorns.
Written for Horror Bites hosted by http://www.officemango.com/ .