**WARNING: - May be disturbing/scary to some people.It's not to me, but it's probably because I wrote it x'D**
The boy walked into the old nursery, the smell of abandonment and rot washing over him as he closed the old oak door. The door had been scratched through the middle, over the rose pattern, and it seemed the person responsible had carried on until their fingers bled, as three seperate blood trails ran down to the bottom of the door, joining at the very bottom and dropping onto the carpet to form a small puddle. The boy took a deep breath and turned around slowly, coming to face the small cot at the very end of the room. He stepped forwards slowly, being careful not to tread on any of the small toys scattered across the pale carpet. He reached the cot and peered inside, suddenly understanding why there was such a strong rotting smell. Still wrapped in soft blankets and fully dressed, was the corpse of a newborn baby. It was still decaying, and on it's cheek, a patch of the skin was completley gone, exposing the bloody, broken bone underneath. The sheets around the baby were splattered with blood, and there was a knife left just below the baby's feet. The boy turned away from the cot, occasionally looking behind, just in case, and walked up to the grimy window. He looked out into the gardens below, wondering if he had imagined the woman he saw running through the uncut grass and out into the forest surrounding the little manor house. Something caught his eye, on the dresser next the the cot. A small music box. He reached out for it, and took off the lid. The lullaby started playing, a high, twinkly tune that sent shivers down his spine. He knew this piece of music, from somewhere, and he had an instinct to run. But he didn't. He was mesmerized by the tune, his mind zoning out from everything except the fragile box in his hands. When the tune finally stopped, he was glad he hadn't run. In the end, it had been kind of relaxing. But that was when the boy realised that he was no longer on his feet, and in reality, the tune had never stopped playing, the music louder than ever. He looked infront of him, the knife from the cot was in his hand, covered in his own blood. He smiled, and dropped the knife, reaching up to his neck, where a long gash was dripping with more blood. He smiled again. Blood, blood, blood. The boy closed his eyes and let his hand fall slack, as the little black box, with intricate red roses, sang him a bloody lullaby. And in it's cot, the baby stirred.
I just read it through and I know there are quite a few mistakes but I don't want to change anything because when I do it always ends up worse ###
"You will be welcome, Beadle Bamford. And I can guarantee to give you, without a penny's charge, the closest shave you will ever know."