by Floris M. Kleijne
Blood matting her blonde hair, blood on her face, blood covering so much of her it takes a moment to see she is naked. The dream gives me an eternity to see her. Eyes wide open and shining, shining. And she grins. That grin has never stopped haunting me. In the dream, I know what she’s done in the bedroom. And I’ve never seen her happier, more exulted.
Deep Red envelopes her, emanates from her every visible pore. It’s like she has taken a bath in perfume. The scent engulfs me, blurs my mind, until I smell only that and see only her grin. Her lips part, and in the dream, she speaks two words.
“Hey, baby…” she says, and in the calm and affectionate tone of her words, the horror of the dream reaches an unbearable level.