Red
By Coral
Disclaimer: Whatever this may be based on probably belongs to someone else. :-)
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Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The gentle dropping and splashing was hypnotising to watch, a steady stream of hot red liquid spilling onto the pure white snow, defiling it in a sense. Each drop spread out a little, producing patterns that resembled a toddler's first real attempt at painting. They were attractive and beautiful, in a macabre way, life's blood spilling onto the virgin snow, each drop one step closer to death.
It was so fascinating, in its own way, that it took her some time to register that the red liquid splashing onto the clear snow before her was, in fact, her own. Yet even this thought didn't motivate her to move. To call for help should have been her first action but her senses were dead, her mind closing itself down from shock, loss of blood, and numbing coldness.
Her next instinct should have been to try and warm herself. Her body was touching the ground in many places as she lay slumped on the snow, arm outstretched with blood running down it and dripping to the ground. Despite her uniform's protection, the coldness had spread to her body, its stinging chill travelling through her body as the blood pumped round, numbing her to the core. She barely felt it now. There was no pain as she lay there, literally watching her life drain away. There was only a faint sense of relief; maybe a mild regret at words left unsaid.
Her other arm, blood free, ended in a clenched fist. The fist wasn't empty; it was gripping an ornate knife as if it represented life itself. She knew, though - even through the dim fog surrounding her consciousness - that it wasn't life that the knife stood for: it was Death. The shiny metal blade was bloodstained and cruel-looking as the blood its work had produced spilt onto the snow around it. Numbly, she watched it:
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The bright redness stirred a foggy memory in her. A red-haired elfin girl in a bright red dress danced as a vision in front of her tired eyes, dancing and whirling in the arms of a dark-skinned man. The red dress mocked her in a thousand ways, drawing attention to itself; drawing everyone to it. The vision reached up to kiss the man passionately, making a show of savouring each moment. Then it turned back to throw a pitying, mocking glance at the lone woman lying in the snow, before dissolving, swept away on the wind like fiery dust. Only the dancing red of the dress remained, haunting her and showing her all she had lost, as it coalesced into the red blood spilling out of her arm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
No, wait, that last one hadn't been a drip at all. It was some other noise, teasing at the edge of the edge of her consciousness and calling to her. She groaned slightly, wishing the noise would go away and leave her in peace until she could finally slip away from the hassle of life.
The noise called her again and she shifted slightly to try and block it out or send it away. She tried instead to focus on the steady dripping - only to find she couldn't see it or hear it anymore. Her vision was clouded and she couldn't even see the snow in front of her face, just that faint redness of the girl's dress pervading everything. All she was aware of was the noise calling to her.
Maybe, she realised, maybe she just had to listen to that noise for a few moments to find the release she sought. Perhaps it was calling her on to - to wherever it was she was going. Maybe it would help her find whatever it was that she was seeking.
Stiffly and, oh, so slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes squeezed tight, her head fuzzy and dazed, her body numb, she was distantly aware that she was falling back to the ground. She didn't even question how the arms that caught her came to be there: she only knew that they were.
And then, she knew nothing but the redness.
End
By Coral
Disclaimer: Whatever this may be based on probably belongs to someone else. :-)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The gentle dropping and splashing was hypnotising to watch, a steady stream of hot red liquid spilling onto the pure white snow, defiling it in a sense. Each drop spread out a little, producing patterns that resembled a toddler's first real attempt at painting. They were attractive and beautiful, in a macabre way, life's blood spilling onto the virgin snow, each drop one step closer to death.
It was so fascinating, in its own way, that it took her some time to register that the red liquid splashing onto the clear snow before her was, in fact, her own. Yet even this thought didn't motivate her to move. To call for help should have been her first action but her senses were dead, her mind closing itself down from shock, loss of blood, and numbing coldness.
Her next instinct should have been to try and warm herself. Her body was touching the ground in many places as she lay slumped on the snow, arm outstretched with blood running down it and dripping to the ground. Despite her uniform's protection, the coldness had spread to her body, its stinging chill travelling through her body as the blood pumped round, numbing her to the core. She barely felt it now. There was no pain as she lay there, literally watching her life drain away. There was only a faint sense of relief; maybe a mild regret at words left unsaid.
Her other arm, blood free, ended in a clenched fist. The fist wasn't empty; it was gripping an ornate knife as if it represented life itself. She knew, though - even through the dim fog surrounding her consciousness - that it wasn't life that the knife stood for: it was Death. The shiny metal blade was bloodstained and cruel-looking as the blood its work had produced spilt onto the snow around it. Numbly, she watched it:
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The bright redness stirred a foggy memory in her. A red-haired elfin girl in a bright red dress danced as a vision in front of her tired eyes, dancing and whirling in the arms of a dark-skinned man. The red dress mocked her in a thousand ways, drawing attention to itself; drawing everyone to it. The vision reached up to kiss the man passionately, making a show of savouring each moment. Then it turned back to throw a pitying, mocking glance at the lone woman lying in the snow, before dissolving, swept away on the wind like fiery dust. Only the dancing red of the dress remained, haunting her and showing her all she had lost, as it coalesced into the red blood spilling out of her arm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
No, wait, that last one hadn't been a drip at all. It was some other noise, teasing at the edge of the edge of her consciousness and calling to her. She groaned slightly, wishing the noise would go away and leave her in peace until she could finally slip away from the hassle of life.
The noise called her again and she shifted slightly to try and block it out or send it away. She tried instead to focus on the steady dripping - only to find she couldn't see it or hear it anymore. Her vision was clouded and she couldn't even see the snow in front of her face, just that faint redness of the girl's dress pervading everything. All she was aware of was the noise calling to her.
Maybe, she realised, maybe she just had to listen to that noise for a few moments to find the release she sought. Perhaps it was calling her on to - to wherever it was she was going. Maybe it would help her find whatever it was that she was seeking.
Stiffly and, oh, so slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes squeezed tight, her head fuzzy and dazed, her body numb, she was distantly aware that she was falling back to the ground. She didn't even question how the arms that caught her came to be there: she only knew that they were.
And then, she knew nothing but the redness.
End