Writer's Block: Backwards Day
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A Backwards Story
They've lost her, for now. She disappears around the corner. She makes her way down the street. Goose bumps cover her skin as she walks across the snow covered path. She doesn't bother with clothes, strolling naked through the gaping front door. She throws the yellow nail brush into the glowing fireplace. Water flows down the drain, taking the blood away with it. The brush digs beneath her fingernails, sweeping little red specks into the sink. She throws her purple Nikes into the fire. She takes off her jeans, uses them to wipe the sweat off her face, and throws them into the fire. Her blood soaked shirt goes in first. She flips the switch on the wall to start the gas fireplace. Her joints creek and pop as she rolls away from the rapidly cooling body and stands. She pulls the knife from his stomach and watches the blood flow. The knife twists in his gut. He didn't see it in her hand. He doesn't know when she grabbed it. His hands fly off her neck and try to catch the blade, but they're too slow. She can't breath. Her airway is cut off. He's going to leave a bruise. Before she can turn around, he has her on the floor. He bursts through the front door. It was only a matter of time before they sent someone.
A Backwards Story
They've lost her, for now. She disappears around the corner. She makes her way down the street. Goose bumps cover her skin as she walks across the snow covered path. She doesn't bother with clothes, strolling naked through the gaping front door. She throws the yellow nail brush into the glowing fireplace. Water flows down the drain, taking the blood away with it. The brush digs beneath her fingernails, sweeping little red specks into the sink. She throws her purple Nikes into the fire. She takes off her jeans, uses them to wipe the sweat off her face, and throws them into the fire. Her blood soaked shirt goes in first. She flips the switch on the wall to start the gas fireplace. Her joints creek and pop as she rolls away from the rapidly cooling body and stands. She pulls the knife from his stomach and watches the blood flow. The knife twists in his gut. He didn't see it in her hand. He doesn't know when she grabbed it. His hands fly off her neck and try to catch the blade, but they're too slow. She can't breath. Her airway is cut off. He's going to leave a bruise. Before she can turn around, he has her on the floor. He bursts through the front door. It was only a matter of time before they sent someone.