It was magnetic, how they caught light of the afternoon rays. Ten macabre tips; sharpened in elegance, unassuming in size. Harbinger of destruction.
They captivated, held her enraptured like moth to lime-green glow in morbid curiosity. An enticing whisper drifted through a hazy mind.
Touch the spindle.
A hand reached out with index flexed. Slowly. Intently. Sentiently.
Just the tip.
A sudden intake of breath, eyes flickered to amber ore that weren't there before.
Sleeping beauty's awake.
"Why," a low voice rumbled, "would you hurt yourself?"
She looked to her finger where a drop of red pooled, no longer entranced.
-X-
Words: 100
Posted: April 13, 2020