Life's Musings and Everything Else

by painted.inkblot

Or rather, Anthony Goldstein during and after the war, in fifty oneshots. Title subject to change.

6. Whitewash

Whitewash

Even in a room covered with whitewash, all Anthony can see in front of him is blood red.

--

(He is the one who drains that shop's supply of it.

It beckons him, you see, in a whispery lullaby-voice, away from dark and splatters and scars and eyes-closed-that-will-never-open, from old stone walls dripping with blood that dries into brown clots on the floor.

Whitewash, the buckets breathe, white-white-whitewash.)