The storm raged on,
each crystalline tear exploding,
scattering on impact.
The wind blew,
screaming out the names of
two people.
Two people,
dying,
bleeding.
And crying.
But not for the fear of death.
Crying,
for the ones they are leaving behind.
They know they will die.
They know they have no hope.
No chance to live.
But they hope.
And they pray.
Not for themselves.
But for their daughters.
They hold each other,
crying until their last breath
escapes their lips.
Crying until everything goes dark
and then consumes them with light.
They lay there,
bleeding out.
Their scarlet blood,
dripping.
Pouring.
And staining.
Their blood,
dark like wine,
spills and pours.
It sinks into the cold and wet ground,
staining the emerald grass.
The emerald grass turns scarlet,
stained with their blood.
The blood seeps.
And it stains.
It doesn't know why.
But it's there.
It seeps.
And it stains.
And it still doesn't know why.
But it moves.
The blood has stained.
It has stained the emerald blades.
And it has stained the dying parents.
The dying parents who are leaving.
Who are leaving people behind.
They leave two daughters.
Sisters who shared the same womb.
Sisters who developed together.
Who grew up together.
Who shared qualities.
Who were the same.
But different.
They lay,
consumed by the secretive
and mysterious darkness
that consumes all.
The darkness devours.
It creeps upon the light.
Even when it can't overcome.
It hides behind things.
Still there when the light has taken over.
But when the darkness overcomes,
the light disappears.
Consumed by darkness.
Where there is light,
there is dark.
They lay,
consumed by blood.
Its color very visible.
Standing out to all.
It is life.
Important.
And it is spilling.
Spilling from two people.
And it is draining.
Draining from two people.
And bringing life with it.
Two people lay,
wanting to see their daughters one last time.
One last time before they die.
They want to see their faces.
Their eyes.
But they don't want to see.
They don't want to see the horror.
And the despair.
And the sadness.
They don't want to see the mixture of those emotions
plastered on their faces.
Two people lay,
listening to the sweet
and dangerous sound of silence.
They listen intently,
focusing on every noise that isn't there.
But then they hear.
They hear the rustle of a bush.
And they look.
Two people crouch,
focusing on the gruesome sight.
Their eyes filled with saddened tears,
spilling out along with cracked cries.
Two people stand,
running towards the people with familiar
and bloodied faces.
They all cry,
knowing there isn't much time.
Knowing this is the last time they all see each other.
Their reunion is sad.
Unusual.
YOU ARE READING
My Blood Stained Rose
RomanceBook One: Blood Fire Trilogy Tsuki was always abused. Beaten. Misjudged. Unappreciated. She had someone she loved - A sister - Until she died. Killed. Murdered. And Tsuki was alone. She never wanted to show her weaknesses - To anyone, for she was sc...
