(100-word flash fiction)
She grabbed the red-ink pen as though it was a dagger.
The blank, white page looked like a virgin, innocent and waiting.
When she put pen to paper, words flowed as though blood were pouring from her fingers. Her mother’s words were dim in her memory, “words can heal or they can kill.”
She didn’t care. For her these words were like a vicious blood clot, cutting off supply to her life, choking, almost killing her. Blood had to be let.
And hand delivered.
She drove to his house. Outside, there was an open ambulance with a covered body inside.
Glad to be back writing for the Friday Fictioneers orchestrated by the lovely Rochelle. I think I got on the bandwagon a bit early this week 🙂
Photo-prompt below –
The rest of the FF stories can be found here.