When Blood Ceases to Flow


When Blood Ceases to Flow

Fly away my angel.
Be forever young.
My longing will linger into eternity,
But you are at peace.

Your laugh lives always on the warm breeze,
But I am embraced by the night,
A ghost with no heartbeat,
A prisoner without life,
Yet I cannot die.

– Written for Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge – September 25, 2016. Learn more about magnetic poetry here.


She wanted the dream to end but had no control.

She dreamed in black and white, always wondering what it meant. This time, the dream was so vivid and immersive, that she had a difficult time waking up.

She felt droplets of water from the fog settling on her face, smelled the dank alley and took in the rough brick wall as she ran her fingers across it while she walked.

She heard distant voices, cats rummaging through trash, and noticed she was entering the less lit area of the city. She was not afraid taking the shortcut, it was a routine beginning to her nights.

She exited the alley and made her way further down the unlit street. Then she noticed a tall figure standing in a doorway, hidden by the shadows.

“Time to get to work,” she said to herself. Then adjusted her corset, fixed a smile on her face and fell into a swagger.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” she approached the stranger. “You looking for me?” She asked with a seductive tone.

He stayed, propped against the door of a shop, and said nothing.

“Come on now, don’t be shy,” she encouraged, moving closer.

Something seemed off about him. She shivered.

She wanted the dream to end but had no control.

He shifted his feet and stood up straight.

“There we go, I knew you wanted a good time,” her last word trailing off as she noticed moonlight glinting on something shiny in his hand.

Before she could react, in one smooth motion he held her tightly against his chest with the knife at her neck.

“They call me Jack,” He said, as he slit her from ear to ear.

She finally awoke by her own screams and remembered the only color she saw in this dream was the red of her own blood as it pooled.

– Written for Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 47, First sentence prompt was “She dreamed in black and white.” WC 299. Photo from VisitLondon.com. “Dreamscape” was named runner-up in this competition.

Red River

The river ran red with blood and the souls of the damned. Mercy knelt at the bank, whispered a blessing and gathered some of the syrupy liquid into a bottle. Tonight’s ritual would prevent the destruction of our world.

– Written for Shapeshifting 13 (#47). Color Red and Photo Prompt. WC 39. Photo by Julija Nėjė