Time to Play

 

 

 

‘Time to play … ‘

Mira lay silent, her petite creamy white hands nestled deep into the folds of the crimson bedding. She’d been tossed haphazardly after a long day of being tossed this way and that. The young child who’d been betrothed the china doll, careless with the precious gift that had seen the turn of ages.

Mira’s curled blonde locks were a mess of tangles. Her rich blue velvet dress showing a century of loving hands, but not this time. This time she was treated roughly and within the delicate frame, something stirred. A thump. And then another. A minute heartbeat that only the most sensitive of minds would be able to detect.

Mira’s hand raised gingerly upwards and a gleam entered the hand painted sky blue eyes. A dark gleam.

“Time to play…”

tick, tick, tick…

The hands of the stately oak grandfather clock beat out a steady rhythm in the long hallway. Inside the dark shadowed room, Mira waited.

She had felt the first stirrings of her own pulse shortly after her vision centered on the overhead draped lace. With tunneled vision, she gazed up at the young girls canopy with a look of distain.

Far too pretty for such a monster…

The blue velvet dress felt smooth against her pale china legs. The white bloomers elastic tugging where the cotton fabric of her thigh met the delicate curve of her china knee.

She was still immobile.

Her arms and legs could move but barely…and then… she felt it…

Her composition was slowly changing. The glass molding to her rag stuffed body – becoming pliable. Almost… flesh like…

A tingling ran along her entire petite length. The once inanimate china doll, blinked. A glistening flicker of life to the painted eyeballs, now sinking into the quickly defining sockets. A single tear crept out of the corner of her sky blue eye.

Ironically, a curve tilted in the corner of her crimson lips and she smiled.

This will be glorious.

Mira was almost complete. Her body having reached a state of complete conversion. The rags that once stuffed her interior had a new texture. Black blood coursed through vein like tatters of strips of rag. A dark heart pumping the infinite evil life through the dolls new form.

Mira was a new entity. Not doll, not alive, something else. And she was eager to discover her new world.

 

Tiny pearly teeth peeked out of a moued grin as she rolled to her side. The velvet sneaking up around her curved rump as she sat up on the dark red bedding. She reached out, her hands grasping the side of the mattress and slowly she lowered herself to the cool wood floor.


Standing shakily on her newly formed feet, she knelt and peered under the dusty bed.

Here. I’ll wait for her here.

Mira slithered under the box spring, turning to gaze out from under her hiding spot. Two tiny blue eyes looming from a black void.

Come my sweet child… we have much to talk about…

Downstairs, there was a commotion.

A young girl was busy pulling a large jar of cookies off the counter in the kitchen. They crashed to the floor with a loud thump. “Oh, now look what happened! I want a cookie!”

The blond girl of six, stomped her foot and pouted. Her mother frowned. She was busy preparing dinner for a small get-together they were having to celebrate her husbands new position at the local hospital. He was to be promoted to Chief of Surgery and a roundup of the various bigwigs from the hospital were due to arrive in the next couple of hours. She didn’t have time for another one of Miranda’s outbursts.

“I’m sorry darling. Here… mommy will clean it up and you can have a popsicle instead.” The woman bent down, clearing the mound of chocolate chip cookies from the tile floor. Sweeping the crumbs into a pile.

Miranda kicked the small mound with her polished black mary janes, scattering the neat pyramid over the clean floor. “I DON’T WANT A POPSICLE! I WANT COOKIES!” She stomped her foot again to emphasize the point.

Her mother sighed and stood up. “I tell you what honey. Tomorrow, you and I will go out and buy a brand new dress for you and Mira – IF – you have a nice cherry popsicle instead and go play in the other room. Please?”

Miranda scrunched up her nose. “I hate popsicles. Will you buy me a new toy too?”

Her mother could see that it was going to be one of those nights and she figured it would be best, once again, just to give in to her only childs request. Other wise, there would be no peace at dinner. And she couldn’t have that – not tonight.

“Alright, one toy. But please now honey, would you go play with your toys so mommy can get dinner finished? I think Mira must be lonely without you.” She knew that Miranda loved the doll although she was rather rough with it.

Her husband dismissed it as normal behaviour. “She’s an only child so she takes out these frustrations on the doll. Totally normal.” She hoped so.

The poor doll had been loved by herself for countless years as a child. Passed down to her from her mother and her mother before that. She was a treasure that now was treated more like a rag doll. She once hid the doll from Miranda but the young girl found her tucked away in her closet. She gave up that ruse after her daughter threw a three day tantrum about having her things taken away. She just hoped Mira, as her daughter called the china doll, could weather the abuse.

She took the popsicle out of the freezer and handed it to her frowning daughter, kissed her head and patted her bottom. “Off you go.”

The young girl smiled smugly and skipped off up the wood stairs in the front hall. “I’m coming Mira!”

The china doll under the bed grinned, “I know you are my child.”

 

Miranda skipped up the steps. The red popsicle tucked between her fingers, slowly melting, leaving little droplets of pink along the polished wood stairs. She stopped at the landing and frowned as the sugary liquid trickled down her forearm.

“Dammit…” she cursed and then giggled.

Miranda had heard her father use this word and when she repeated it one day after she knocked her Lego tower over by mistake, her mother had scolded her, “I know you hear daddy use that word but you shouldn’t repeat it. It’s not a nice word and even daddy shouldn’t say it.”

She’d nodded dutifully and never used the word around her parents again. But when she played by herself, it was her favorite expression. She especially enjoyed using it when Mira was doing something bad. And that was quite frequently.

Her doll was her best friend. But she did get into SO much trouble. She had to discipline her all the time. The little girl frowned. Mira had been bad earlier and that’s why she had been forced to stay in her room.

“Dammit! Naughty Mira,” she’d chastised the doll. A cup had been lying beside her as they colored. When Miranda went to reach for a new crayon, she brushed the china doll with her arm and she toppled into the orange Kool-Aid.

She picked up the delicate doll and tossed her to the bed. Poking the dolls soft middle, she hung over her and said with a six-year old menacing voice, “You should be more careful Mira. Now you ‘ll have to be punished. You are not allowed to come downstairs and have a cookie. You’re bad!” Each time she began a new sentence she jabbed her tiny index finger harder into the dolls torso. With a flip of her hair she stomped out of the room.

She would go show Mira her popsicle now and maybe, MAYBE, if she apologized for the mess she’d made, she would be allowed a small lick.

Miranda continued down the long hallway and stopped in front of her room. “Miiiirrrraaa..” she called, “I have a popsicle. If you’re a good dollie, I may let you have some.”

She pushed open the door and peered across the flowered room to her canopied bed. The doll was missing.

“Mira?” Miranda stepped inside the room and scanned the floor. “Mira? Where did you go?”

Miranda was sure she’d left the doll on the bed. “Mommy?!” she shouted, “Did you take Mira?”

A voice called back, “No honey. I don’t have her.”

Miranda pouted. She sat down on the floor. Her popsicle forgotten about, it trailed a sticky glaze over her legs as she leaned forwards, her head in her hands. “Dammit Mira. Where are you?”

 

“Mira, are you under here you naughty thing.” The little girl lifted the duster and peered underneath.

“Yes… I am my child…” a small voice answered.

Miranda flinched but didn’t pull away. “Mira?”

The doll’s blue eyes blinked once.

Deep within the recesses of Miranda’s brain, even though she was only a child, she knew that dollies should not talk. At least not, dollies that didn’t have a pull string or held a tiny battery that her father was constantly complaining ‘she went through like water’ to keep her many toys blinking and squawking.

No, Mira had none of these to her knowledge, and the child could never remember hearing her china doll speak – ever. But in Miranda’s young mind, this was exciting. Exciting enough to have her leave the quickly melting cherry popsicle to the wayside and now slip further under the bed to see what else her ‘naughty’ friend could do.

“Mira? Is that you talking?”

“Yes child. I have something to show you..”

Miranda pushed her small frame further, the hem of her dress riding up over the white frilled panties she wore and with a grunt, she was stopped short by the edge of the bed frame. “Dammit!” she cursed. “Miiiirrraaa..I can’t get under there. You come here.”

Since Mira could suddenly talk, it just made sense to Miranda that she could move as well. The young girl huffed in frustration and scrambled back out from under the mattress and waited.

Under the bed, the china doll bent forwards and saw the young girls plump knees staring her in the face. “I’m coming..”

Mira slunk across the parquet floor, the silken blond curls emerging from under the ruffled duster, her tiny red mouth curling crisply at the corners.

Miranda stared goggle eyed at the doll. “Mira! I didn’t know you could walk and talk. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

A note of irritation was in the child’s voice but the newly born doll dismissed it. Inside of her body something stirred. A need, a desire, an instinct that swelled through her pulsating stuffing. She knew what needed to be done.

Standing in front of the frowning child, the doll curled her fingers into a ball and cautiously stepped forwards, her tiny feet unsteady. “I need to tell you a secret,” she whispered and placed her hands on Miranda’s legs.

The girl, surprised but anxious to know what her longtime playmate had to say, leaned over. “What is it?”

“Time for ME to play…”

The doll quickly snatched Miranda’s hair in a fist and pulled it tight. Clinging to the yelping child’s locks she hoisted herself up, placed her mouth over the child’s ear and blew. SLOOOOSH… a long ribbon of stuffing unfurled from the dolls mouth. Twisting and spiraling like a slender thread it entered Miranda’s ear canal and slid down the length, piercing her eardrum with a slight pop.

The tot dropped to the floor with a gasp and crumpled into a ball. The doll still attached to her head, it pumped it’s entirety deep within the child’s brain.

The dolls torso, now flat, it reversed it’s breath and began sucking. All that was the young girl flowed into the toys body. With a last sputter, the dolls mouth puckered and it fell back, shuddering on the floor.

Doll and child lay still.

Time passed as the hands on the grandfather clock ticked away the minutes closer to the hour when Miranda’s parents would be hosting the party for his esteemed colleagues. From below, the young girl’s father returned home just a half hour before the first guest would be arriving.

“Hey, hun.” he called from the front hall, “Is everything ready?”

“Sure is. Could you check on Miranda for me. She went upstairs a while ago and I haven’t heard anything from her in a bit. You know what that means.” Miranda’s mother was just finishing setting the large dining room table.

Miranda’s father shook his head. He knew all too well. The young girl was probably into some form of mischief. “Okay. I’m on it.”

Inside the child’s room, the doll eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. The young girl lying crumbled beside the toy groaned and moved slightly. She raised her hand and inspected the life lines etched in the soft skin of her palm… and she smiled. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful.” the girl’s tiny voice praised.

She placed her hands on either side of her small frame and pushed herself gently from the floor and stood. Turning she gazed down at the silent doll and winked, “Thanks Miranda for the loaner. I’m not sure how long I have in this sweet little body of yours but I intend to make full use of it. I do hope you don’t mind if it get’s a scrape here or there. It may be necessary when I give your parents my present for delivering me into the hands of such a disgusting monster.”

The doll heard every word but was unable to move. The young girl Miranda was trapped inside the inanimate china figurine and could only watch horror stricken as her dollie, now masquerading as herself, plumped her blond hair and stroked the soft fabric of her velvet dress.

Mira lifted her dress and plunged her fingers deep inside the white lace panties. “Hmm… I guess I’m not mature enough down below to get a little action from your father sweetness. Pity. I would have enjoyed fucking your daddy’s brains out while your bitch of a mother watched, gagged and bleeding to death. Oh well… I guess I’ll just have to find other ways to amuse myself.”

Miranda didn’t understand the words ‘fucking’ except to know that it was a bad word. but she did understand ‘her mother bleeding to death’. The child doll screamed inside her head but nothing exited the painted ruby lips. Miranda sobbed as Mira picked her up and tossed her to the bed.

The child’s entity giggled as Miranda’s china head thumped the post of the bed before she landed. “Hurts little one, doesn’t it?”

It did. Miranda felt the pain coursing through her limp body on the bed and she bawled harder as she struggled to move. It was futile. She was trapped in the doll’s body and she had no way of escaping the living hell.

Mira crossed the room and dug through the child’s desk drawer looking for the item she knew would be there. “Ah, there we go. Perfect.”

Outside the room, a knock resounded and Miranda’s father peeked his head inside. “Everything alright baby? Are you ready for daddy’s big night?”

Mira turned and grinned, her right hand hidden behind her back. “Oh yes daddy and I have such a surprise for you and mommy as well. I want to give you a present.”

“Well isn’t that sweet of you baby.” The child’s father drew closer to his young daughter and knelt in front of her. “And what could that be honey?”

Mira quickly put her arms around the man’s neck and hugged him tightly. ” This… you limp dicked fucker!”

With a force unknown to a four-year-old child, Mira plunged a silver letter opener deep through the man’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound, soaking his suit and the floor around him. He gasped in disbelief and pain, struggling under the child doll’s unbelievable strength.

Mira giggled madly as he twitched in her tight embrace and followed him as he toppled to the floor backwards. The girl sat on top of his belly as he gurgled, “What… why…Miranda..”

The man’s arms were flailing and Mira placed her knees on them, holding them tight to the floor. “Why? Oh dear daddy…I still love you. I just would prefer you dead.”

The entity smirked as his eyes gawked terror-stricken at his only daughter. Mira chuckled and ground her small bottom against the man’s groin, then plastered a disturbing look of lust across her young features. “Come on daddy. You know you like it… you sick fuck!”

The man choked and a splattering of blood flecked the child’s dress. “Dammit daddy! Now look what you did!” Mira frowned and pulled back her tiny hand and cracked the man square in the side of the head. He groaned and fell limp and silent.

Mira bent over his quickly dying body and kissed him on the mouth, then licked his crimson stained cheek from his lips to his ear and whispered, “Time to play with mommy.”

 

Mira – Time To Play …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From below, Miranda’s mother had heard muffled thumps as her husband thrashed on the hardwood floor and she frowned. ‘What are they doing up there anyways,’ she wondered, placing the last wine glass on the elaborately set dining room table.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned deeper. ‘Damn, they’re all going to be here in less than 15 minutes.’ She pushed back a lock of stray hair and grumbled as she made her way upstairs, “I told him just to go get her. Never fails. They’re probably playing some game now and I’m going to be the bad guy that has to pull them away from it.”

Miranda’s mother knocked softly at the door. Pushing it open, she called, “Hey guys, it’s time to come downstairs. I hope you didn’t make a big…” Her words were cut short as she spotted the crumpled, bloody form of her husband on the floor in front of her. “Oh my God!”

She sprinted the short distance to his body and fell beside him, grasping his head in her hands, she peered down into his ashen face and cried, “What happened!” She’d receive no response to her question. Tears began a silent cascade down her cheeks and suddenly she remembered her daughter. “Oh God! Miranda? Where are you!” Fear cut a knife through her stomach as she realized that whoever had done this to her husband might have also hurt her child. She swung around around on her knees and scanned the room. “Miranda! Honey, where are you!” There was no answer.

The woman scrambled to her feet. “Miranda!”

Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest as she frantically thought of what she should do next and then a voice answered her, “Mommy?” She turned and from behind the partially open door, the child impostor strode out into the room.

“Miranda!” her mother cried and raced to her daughter who appeared to be covered in blood. “Are you okay honey? Who did this?” She embraced the young girl and then pulled back, her hands checking her daughter’s face and body for any signs of injury.

“Daddy is dead… isn’t he?” the doll child asked.

“I… I.. think so honey. we have to get out of here before whoever did this comes back though.” She swiped her daughter”s hand into hers and flung open the bedroom door, thinking, if they got to the neighbors, she could phone the police from there.

But… Mira had other ideas.

“Mommy… I want to stay here with daddy.”

The woman bent over and looked her daughter in the eyes, “We can’t honey. We have to call the police right away.”

The child doll giggled.”I don’t think so… BITCH!”

The woman pulled back, her eyes confused at the words that had just left her daughter’s mouth. “Miranda? Are you okay?” She was shaking now and thinking, ‘what’s wrong with her?’

“I’m fine you fucking cow… but… you won’t be very soon.” Mira lifted the blood-covered letter opener in front of her and plunged the make-shift weapon deep into the woman’s thigh.

The woman screamed and crashed to the floor. Pain seared through her leg as Mira threw herself on top of Miranda’s mother an straddled her waist. “Hurts doesn’t it bitch?”

The woman was speechless as she looked up into her daughter’s eyes. ‘What’s wrong with her,’ kept blaring in her brain. She shook violently as her mind wrestled with the urge to flee but also help her obviously disturbed child. “Mira… please stop…”

 

Mira chuckled sinisterly and placed her hands around the woman’s throat, slowly tightening her grip. “I don’t think so. It’s time you learned what kind of torture I had to put up with for all those years trapped inside the walls of that doll’s body. Your daughter is no longer here you crying bitch. She’s trapped in that fucking doll lying on the bed. I AM THE DOLL!”

 

Mira was giggling insanely as she tilted her head towards the china doll lying haphazardly on the coverlet, “Yeah. A fitting end to your bastard child’s existence. I fully intend to do to her, exactly what she did to me, for these last couple of years… but first..” She bent closer to the woman’s ear and whispered, “…I’m going to gut you like a fish and dance in your entrails.”

The woman blanched. What the child poised over her had just uttered was insane, but for some reason she believed her. There was something altogether evil with this thing on top of her and she realized immediately what she had to do. Grasping the blood-soaked blade in her thigh, she pulled it out with a quick yank, and jammed it’s tip into Mira’s leg. The child doll screamed in pain and flung herself to the side, frantically tugging at the twitching letter opener. “You fucking bitch! I’ll eat your heart for this!”

Miranda’s mother didn’t wait for the thing posing as her daughter to get a chance to carry through with her threat, as she flipped over and stumbled to her feet, racing out the bedroom door.

Mira ripped the blade from her calf and cursed, “Get back here! I’m not done playing with you!” She jumped to her feet and raced after the woman, calling, “You’re gonna pay for that you bitch!”

Miranda’s mother was at the top of the stairs and as she fumbled for the banister, Mira flung herself across the hall at the woman and the two toppled down the long flight, landing in a heap on the front hall’s landing.

 

(pssst Time for YOU to play … ‘If I Die Tomorrow’< Right Click to ‘open in a new window’ and minimize,  Motley Crue will sweetly background serenade  through the chilling conclusion.   …

 

The house was silent. Dead silent.

Upstairs, the corpse of Miranda’s father had drained itself dry, leaking endlessly from the puckered gaping hole in his neck. An outline of crimson surrounded his form like a red police chalk line.

Downstairs, a pool of blood had gathered under Miranda’s mothers left cheek, now lying flat against the cold expensive marble floor. Her head was tilted downward; the woman’s wide staring eyes locked in death on the sight of her own ass. The woman had broken her neck. The vertebrae snapping as she hit the long line of stairs with her skull, finally coming to a rest in the opposite direction of what it should be as she hit the front entry.

The upstairs clock broke the silence as it chimed nine times and a knock resounded at the front door. Outside on the front step, colleagues of Miranda’s father waited patiently for someone to answer the door. Griping was heard as the minutes passed and no one answered their insistent rings.

“It was tonight… right?” a woman asked.

“I’m sure it was..” another man answered.

The head of the pediatrics’ ward, a colleague and close friend of the little girl’s father, stood on his tiptoes and peered through the small window set into the front door. No one caught him as he screamed, then passed out. His head smacked the ground with a loud thump and several of his companions cried out in shock. Those cries quickly turned to gasps of horror as they too gazed through the glass and saw the woman’s body lying distorted in the front hall.

One of the men, a burly surgeon, who lifted weights almost as deftly as he lifted a scalpel, finally kicked in the front door. Two of the others tended to the knocked out head of pediatrics, while another called the police.

t took roughly two hours for police and paramedics to gather up the bodies and cart them off to the morgue. They found the little girl hiding in the front closet. Besides a large lump on her forehead, she appeared to be no worse for wear. Police questioned her as gently as they could but all they were able to get out of her was, “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Finally, a woman from child’s services arrived and calmly informed the police that she would be taking the child to her aunt’s house. She issued them a stern warning to leave the child alone until a psychologist had been consulted, then bent down to the small shivering girl and said, “Miranda. I’m going to take you to see your auntie, okay?”

“Where’s my daddy and mommy?” The child looked up sadly into the woman’s eyes.

“They’re not here, dear. We’ll talk about that later, okay?”

The child nodded, then asked. “Can I have my dolly? I don’t want to leave her here all alone.”

“Sure honey. Where is she?”

“She’s in my room.”

The child worker looked over at one of the cops surveying the exchange and he nodded.

The officer turned, quickly headed up the flight of stairs to the child’s room and found the doll lying on the bed. He shivered as he brought it back downstairs. Fucking china dolls, he thought to himself, handing the toy to the young girl. Damn things gimme the heebie-jeebies.

The child hugged the doll and smiled. “Thank you.”

The officer smiled as she walked toward the front door holding two of the workers fingers in her left hand, while the doll dangled from her right hand. The two stopped at the entrance as the woman called ahead to make sure the psychologist they’d called would meet them at the young girl’s aunts’ house.

The child turned and called back to the officer who’d brought her the china doll, “Sir?”

He turned,”Yes dear?”

“Miranda wants to say thank you, too.”

“Oh, sure… You’re welcome Miranda.” He grinned as the child faked a nod from the china doll and he asked, “You named your dolly after yourself, huh?”

The little grinned; her eyes shrinking to slits as she answered his question in a whisper. “No. My name is Mira.”

The man choked back a scream; positive he saw the child’s pupils burn bright red and a tongue that looked like it had been woven of bloodied, gray yarn sweep over her top lip and waggle in the air at him.

“Mira, fuckkkker…, ” she hissed, slurping up the twisted gray appendage into her tiny mouth, “My name is Mirrraaa…”

The man shook from head to toe, his face ashen. The worker clicked shut her cell phone, reached down to grasp the child’s hand and caught sight of the pale and trembling officer. She gave him an odd look, then said, “You don’t look so well. Perhaps, you better go sit down. I think the stress of this one might be getting to you.”

The officer looked back down at the child and her face was that of a worried little girl’s again. He nodded, still shaking, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

The worker smiled supportively, “Happens to all of us at one point or another. ” As the man walked off unsteadily, she looked down at the child holding her hand, “You ready to go.”

Mira nodded, “Yes. Is my uncle home too?”

“He sure is honey. Why?”

Mira smiled widely as they started off down the front walk. “I want to play a game with him.”

 

 

 

‘Time to Play’  ….   by Cassandra  and Amanda, … for Miranda .  ; )

(Love to my darling friend and darkest author Cassandra Lee for her dark and lovely hand in playtime)

 

No children or dolls were harmed during the writing of this story. 

 

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Time to Play

  1. you sure like to pour the crimson on thick .

    had a very chuckie esque feel to the story- sinister, very sinister- which got a cringe out of me at a least a couple of parts.

    try taking out the adverbs, i had a story ripped to shreds because of the adverbs , and when they are gone – voila – it does sound pretty neat.

    SK talks about it in ‘on writing’

    onto the next one eh…like Mira. ( she should have blew her stuffing into the mother- then she could have really played 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you Gregg, for all of your feedback and input, its very much appreciated!

    That story was written for fun, on a blog bulletin in late night hours over a period of months, just for fun, and actual ‘play’. I hadn’t wanted to edit it because of its authentic feel for what it really was with every word that it really had, as many were not mine.

    There were even character mishaps that I just left them in,, one being that she was 6 years old and another time, she had the strength not known to a ‘4 year old’ , lol, she was ‘toddler’ and she was a ‘young girl’, it makes me laugh.

    I have a daughter named Miranda by the way. 🙂 Thank you so much for taking your time to read it and giving me your thoughts, and your literary expertisely advice, I will work on them all of course!

    talks to you later,

    Amadna ; )

    Like

  3. ha – expertise – you must have me confused with someone else. yeh writing with other folks is a good laugh- although some like to screw the story about just for their own pleasure. i had one guy that used to kill off all my characters one by one before the story even got started, he’d really piss me off- until i bit back and began my own slaughter fest ! it was like reservoir dogs by the time we got over that hump !

    Liked by 1 person

  4. LMAO, I bet it was pretty gory in there! It is fun to do. I was doing a group story once, and they had this big apocolyptic explosion and fire, people running everywhere, and I was sooo disenchanted with it all, I went in there with ’13 years later…. ‘ and made a mere memory out of it,. and gave that story a whole new direction, where I WANTED IT TO GO. …. to a dark castle, far far away where there was a servant name Algar.
    ha ha

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s