She was completely soaked, the moisture seeping through her clothing and tingling her skin. Her clothing was ruined by the stains, Perhaps permanently. In retrospect, she should have exercised greater caution. 

Holding the scissors in her hands gave her a rush, and she yearned to make a swift, decisive attack without collateral damage. A wave of adrenaline, she thought, was to blame. As she looked around the kitchen, she saw the blood splatters glistening on the white cabinet and tiles. 

She should clean up before her mother returns, so she won't have to answer any questions she hasn't thought of. She grabbed a large, nearly empty plastic bag from the counter and read the words "Fake Blood" in that chilling typeface. 

Now she must figure out how to pull off her Halloween costume with only poster colours.

Drenched, Flash Fiction, Scary short, Story twist

I close my eyes, 
it splashes on me;
I love the feel of it,
trickling down my face.

I lick my lips,
the taste lingers,
penetrating my blood,
sending a tingle through my body.

I rub it all over me,
glowing in its beauty,
the experience is overwhelming,
I love giving into it.

I open my eyes,
there is nothing there;
oh how I miss,
bathing in my own dreams.

On the edge,
mind spinning,
waves crashing,
she could feel the rush.

The end is calling,
like a sweet siren,
like a lullaby;
a bloody tear rolls down her cheek,
she sobs,
her soul torn.

So many times, she shattered,
so many times, she mended herself,

piece by piece,
glued together with blood,
scarring the heart.

Heaven has forsaken her,
hell is afraid she will take over;
death will be a blessing,
after 10,000 years.

The sun rises,
setting her free;
she steps forward,

Who will catch me when I fall?
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

She wakes up,
trapped in reality,
a bloody tear rolls down her cheek.
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