The little red girl clutches the crunchy cone in-between her little red fingers. She holds it gently and conscientiously, but still, cracks and splinters appear all over. Creamy pink drips from her fingers, now.
She tries to catch the little creamy pink droplets with the top of her little red doll shoes. She doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work. She still tries to catch them anyway.
Her fingers and palms feel numb. She wants to let go of the cone. She doesn’t want to let go of the cone. Now her hands burn, but they’re cold. She tries not to cry.
She sticks her tongue out to try and save the creamy pink from dripping down the crunchy cone. Her tongue recoils from the cone, her tongue feels like it’s been stung by nasty, nasty bees. Now, she cries.
The creamy pink, now a rich, bright red, stops dripping from the cone.
|Originally written: March 08, 2022
YOU ARE READING
Choice Cuts
Short StorySweetest Decay, Series 1 A collection of my short stories I first published in my writing blog, Sweet Decay.
