Blood Red Rose

A Story by Kura

Maybe a tiny bit brutal, as a warning

A stormy night. What a cliche.
Let's go somewhere fun and happy, yes?
A park perhaps...
No, let's go and play in the forest, where the ground is dappled in afternoon sunlight, birds are singing, wildlife all around us.
Yeah, let's go there.
(Nobody will hear you scream there.)

While we're out here, why don't we play a game?
Oh! I know the perfect one!
I'll tie you to that tree over there and see how fast it takes you to get out.
Fun, right?
I'll go get the rope!
(You won't be able to escape now.)

Now that you're all tied up, I'll start counting. I tied it reaaaallly tight, so it might take you a while.

1...

2...

3...

4...
(Now you're MINE.)
5...
6...
7...
(You stand NO chance.)
8...
(You doomed yourself from the very beginning.)
9...
(There is no survival.)
10...
(I hope you don't mind being eaten once you're dead.)

Oh, what a mess I've made. Deary me, I hope no one finds it. Too bad I can't let them see how pretty the ground looks when it's coated in liquid life. I wish I could show them the masterpiece I carved in your skin, how the bones show in the cuts, how the blood wells from the slashes. They won't ever be able to see the ruby red paint so artfully brushed on what's left of your skin by the claws I use for paintbrushes.

No matter.

They'll be able to see the color of your blood soaked into this rose, at the very least. It's funny how they find the symbols of the blood I spill so lovely. Even thinking them to be a representative of their petty loves. How very amusing.

Perhaps I should leave some more, if they adore death so much. After all, who wouldn't love the color of blood painted on to such a lovely thing.