I turned my hand over to find blood
slowly but steadily pooling in my palm. I hadn’t cut my hand or felt any pain.
I was only alerted to it by the wet sensation.
It hadn’t dripped anywhere that I could
tell, and as I watched the pool steadily grow, I noticed it spread just as
slowly. I turned my hand ever so slightly, and yet it did not run off like a
liquid. It didn’t even let a stray drop slip along a single wrinkle.
I turned my hand back downward and yet
it did not fall from me. I confusedly looked again into the crimson pool and
saw the tiniest slit, the most minor of cuts, but the blood flowed forth as
steadily as an open wound.
Then I gently tapped the top of the dome
of blood with my finger, and that’s when it happened.
The blood reacted to the touch and moved
away from it, the dome of blood spreading itself low and from there spread
itself evenly over my skin, continuing to grow out at its leisure.
It became just thin enough to make out
my features through while retaining the dark scarlet hue. As it moved over my
skin it fit snugly to it, so that where I moved it followed.
In a panic I pressed my opposite thumb
to the tiny slit of a scratch, attempting to stop the flow. This did nothing to
stop it, as my thumb met no flesh. The layer of liquid remained, my retreating
thumb remaining dry.
I could do nothing as this blood-skin
enveloped my body, as I felt it meet together where my fingernails ended, as it
covered each hair individually before matting it together while it met itself
over my scalp.
As it passed over my eyes, I attempted
to open them, that somehow it would part before my sight; but it didn’t. I
looked out into a red world, and then it reached my lips.
One last chance I opened my mouth, but
not before it met itself past my lips and my words were lost in the sound of
red.
I very unique voice to this one, very well done!
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