I could still taste him, the blood on my lips, the fire in his eyes, the smoke on my tongue.

I could still taste the last of his life as I held him and watched him go. He was the prize of my collection, the fire in my heart.

He didn’t even know it was me that betrayed him; I wore a mask as I bled him dry, as the fight poured out of him and into me.

He was my everything. We had had such dreams together, such bliss, such wondrous nights. Our plans and hopes rested on one another.

I didn’t quite feel hollow, as I went back out into the night, into the music, straightening my mask. My belly was full of him; he would always be with me.

This entry was posted in Fiction, Flash and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

0 Responses to Carnivale

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    Can taste blood on my lips.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.