Blood-Red

by R.T. Allenson


It was the middle of the night when I began to do it. I was uncomfortable with the idea at first but it was hard to avoid, it was difficult to resist. Something inside me, inside my body that is, craved the feeling of euphoria – the tension, the pressure and the excitement that came with it.

Though it gave me pleasure, the thought of doing it shamed me. As if I needed to hide myself while doing it, so I did it in the middle of the night when the house was still and all is silent. I would steal myself away, hiding in the shadows while I committed atrocities that weighed heavily in my mind. My family would shun me would they discover me in the act, red-handed.

The clock struck the twelfth hour and I relished in the ecstasy, falling back on my bed with a tired sigh. As I closed the windows and readied myself for sleep, I felt the same rush of excitement surge through me, only painful this time, and I felt myself bleeding.

And the night resonated with my harrowing screams, and colored vividly by blood-red fountains.

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