Wednesday, December 05, 2007

drabble, Finger Painting

written for 100drabbles

It was on his fingers, warm, red, slick, with its own unique smell. He wondered what it tasted like, but he didn’t try to taste it. It was draining from his body creating sinister pool on the floor around him. He never thought his friend would plunge a dagger into stomach and leave him for dead. The sad part was he still didn’t know why. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon. It irked him that no one would know who had killed him. He stared at the blood on his fingers and the white wall beside him

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