Word Prompts (B27): Blood

“We don’t get to choose,” she says, thousand yard stare, fingers curled into tight, pale fists.

With the cloudy sky and gray, frothing ocean she is the image of every suffering heroine. Enduring, longing, betrayed.

No, it’s never a choice.

You hear the screeching of seagulls, sharp and high and punctuating ever roaring wave crashing against the rocks. The coastal winds whip her hair back, streaming banner proud. Even the faded red of her old sweater seems deliberate.

How picturesque her fury, how cinematic her grief.

Maybe, if she were a stranger, this would be art. Instead, you leave your camera untouched around your neck.

Some wounds should not be shared.

In a forest,
green and growing.
In a meadow,
bright and blooming.
Is a lake,
still and waiting.
For a girl,
young and shining.

One night to fall in love.

The monitors beep, a shaky metronome for a song that does not yet exist.

Such unsteady ground to build a future.

But maybe you can do it.

He breathes, rasping and shallow, lungs so weak and tired. The energy that you saw before dimming with every second. His hand is so cold in yours.

You can save him, if you try. You might fail, even if you do. But at least you’ll have tried.

One night to fall in love.

He coughs. Harsh and pained and wet. Flower petals red against the bleached hospital sheets.

It’s not your fault, not your responsibility. There’s nothing tying you to this boy slowly dying.

You only met him today.

But he doesn’t deserve to die, for something so foolish as loving you. And maybe, if you try, you can save him before the night takes him away.

Maybe you can fall in love.

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