The blood wiped from her face evaporates into red smoke that always trails behind her. The first inhale before it fades away attaches to all her memories. Her walls are now painted in crimson and white stripes. She looks upward and heaven drips blood drops. She looks downward. Hell’s crimson river flows. The accusing arrows have her eyes as points.
No one sees them pierce. They just remember that she was the one that danced naked in a big hat at that festival.
The blood is there in him even when the look is gone. All the splatters mixed with dirt are hidden away. It exists beneath his sneer and disdainful eyes. He knows that the bespectacled man with the nice smile is the last one they’ll suspect of this crime.
Leave a Reply