THE DARK OUT

Blood. Fear. Death. The gruesome
resurfaced in the birth
of Shiv.
She cut like a knife.
No.
She cut
like a chainsaw. She was
quiet, and naive, and gentle,
and poisonous.

She kissed like
a whore. But
talked like a saint. Her crimes were
unrevealed. She worked clean.
But she was dirty. Where was she from, anyway?

(This is a flash fiction twisted in free-flowing poetry. It is an original work. No part of this story may be distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the permission of the author. Cover was created from the photo uploaded by Diane Munoz at pinterest.com... I did the Photoshopping myself. All other images used in each chapter belong to their rightful owner.)