Reviving an older story…

Felicity Johns

It flared, a red flash behind the eyes, blinding, intense. His face swam in and out of focus. It was red, too. But it was not the red of artificial light. It was the red of life. Running over his brow and pooling in his eye-sockets like a horror movie haunt. It made him unrecognizable, the pools for eyes and the way his soul left.

Tires screeched. Someone screamed. It might have been her because she felt it, but it was too far away. The pavement pressed into her kneecaps, and the blood on her hands left tracks on his body everywhere she touched him. The cry in her throat stayed there, buried beneath the pounding of her heart that she was certain was trying to follow him into the darkness, or the light, or wherever it was he was going.

Hands dug into her biceps, pulling her back. Theā€¦

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