No TitleI had dreamed nights before of blood, red skies and weeping birds. I had seen myself crying blood, and woken in sweat. After a few days of these haunting dreams what I saw (in my waking state) broke my heart, and the world had drained of colour but for the red blood pulsing beneath flesh.
Despite my dream I had never foreseen my blood staining her bare skin, my hair soaked with the red liquid so needed by the feeble creatures we refer to as ‘living’. As she had lain before me I had seen the sky turn red, her mouth red. Her skin was soft, hair like silk, lips parted and blood stained. Red with my blood. Though it had bled from her veins, her torn and beaten skin, it was my blood. She tore out my heart, chewed it with contempt and swallowed. The blood spilt, every single drop, was my own.
I laid her down on the scratchy, checked blanket where she would lie forevermore. I would admire her smile, if it were not an act. A look of innocence and joy, which to me was a dagger drivi