Sarah Small
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Stories (1/0)
Born Human
When she awoke, all she could see was red. A rusty red flecked with something brighter–it was caked into her fingernails, crushed into the folds of her eyes, and dusting her dry achy kneecaps. She sat up with a moan, the clay flaking-off in chunks with each movement. She couldn’t remember how she ended up on the floor, but her head was throbbing. She needed to know what had happened–who had attacked? She was bleeding, but where from? She started searching for the source, and felt a small twinge at her ankle. It was a shallow cut–probably one of many. Without acknowledging why, but moving as if by puppet string, she watched her own finger reach down and swirl the edges of bright crimson into the soft, dull clay. She felt the corners of her mouth lift into a smile at the sight of her muddied wound. The sight of her own blood unlocked something like a memory, but the details eluded her.
By Sarah Small3 years ago in Fiction