I clutch the bottles in my fist; I know the end.
It's all so clear to me. I see the crimson seeping into my vision, tinting everything, and my heart sinks in my chest like a rock thrown into a swamp. Liz is standing horrified among the red lights with her simple dress colored the most ravishing red. with what’s left of my sanity, I shout at her to go into the bedroom and lock the door, I shout like a madman… no, not mad yet, not mad… the fleeting figure of her disappears into the corridor and I know I can’t resist anymore… a chill sets over me, wrapping me in like a blanket. I step into the kitchen once again and the cold glimpse of a knife blade catches my eye. I run my fingertip along the edge and feel the sting; a hysteric laugh escapes my mouth, shaking my whole body. The sound of my manic laughter fills the house. I pick up the knife and admire it, what a beauty. My eyes glint with joy and my lips quiver with excitement… Oh how will I enjoy this feeling...
YOU ARE READING
Crimson
Short StoryWe are vessels, containers of emotions. Like a jar of water we're filled and emptied of feelings, those feelings are what drive us...
