Cross the line, life on the edge, there’s no turning back. The blood spattered canvas of my heart was once an open book. Now it rests in darkened caverns and graffitied rafters of abandoned worlds.
No longer dreams of fairy tales in a color-book story and no white knight to come and rescue me. I paint outside the lines and leave my chaos tattooed on the flesh of men, feeding off danger.
His icy eyes told of lies, and I knew what our night would include. It was lips to wrists and impassioned power play, prisoner beneath his kiss and in the end a switch, I the dominant.
© Grace Black
Honorable Mention Micro Bookends
Fiction Written for Micro Bookends:
A New Micro Fiction Contest. Come write!
“A WEEKLY MICRO FICTION CONTEST WHERE WE PROVIDE THE FIRST AND LAST WORDS AND YOU PROVIDE THE REST.”
This story begins with heartache, and I can actually sympathize with the main character’s callousness and ambivalence; pain has a way of making you numb.
I take the protagonist to be a vampire – if not literally, metaphorically, at least. She (or he) is either taking their revenge on unsuspecting surrogates or losing themselves in a life that provides enough pain to mask their other pain. Or both. There is also a nice, subtle incorporation of the photo prompt.