• Hello everybody! We have tons of new awards for the new year that can be requested through our Awards System thanks to Antifa Lockhart! Some are limited-time awards so go claim them before they are gone forever...

    CLICK HERE FOR AWARDS

Stained Red (Please review!)



REGISTER TO REMOVE ADS
Status
Not open for further replies.

Revolution

New member
Joined
Apr 24, 2010
Messages
814
Age
28
Location
Sleepin' Somewhere
The winter wind filled the streets of the Long Island village that she lived in. Snow was drifting down softly, covering the streets and roves in a thin blanket of white that glistened in the dim light of the street lamps, coating the icicles that hung from the frozen gutters. The majority of people were shut up inside their homes, enjoying a night of holiday movies with friends and family.

Not her.

Trudging past the dark storefronts, memories filled her mind of a time where she walked these same streets with a child in hand, his eyes focused downward at the new toy he had just bought at the toy store, a robot who would come to life with the click of a button on his lower back; It was the first thing he had ever bought on his own, something he had desperately saved up his Birthday, Christmas, allowance money for. When he had discovered he needed batteries for it to turn on, he had begged her for the small amount of money to go buy them in the store across the street.

__________________

“Mommy, it’s the last thing I’ll ask for today!” He had said with his fiery blue eyes turned upward to look at her. “Besides, just think! If this turns on, I’ll be able to play with it all day and be quiet.”

Smiling down at him, she pulled out two singles and handed them to her son’s waiting hand. “Alright, here you go. Ask Mrs. Clark for two AA batteries.”

Smiling, her son wandered to the street curb and looked both ways before venturing out onto the black pavement. Stting on a bench, she watched as two men exited a small Irish pub down the street, before turning to look down at her purchases for the day. Some vegetables and a half chicken for dinner tonight. Minutes later, her son walked across the street, a small bag in his right hand and his left waving at her.

There was a squeal of something – tires? – And she screamed, running out onto the street, the black now stained red.
__________________


Stepping past the wrought iron gate, she moved down the darkened path, not as cleared as the main street, causing her every step to be knee deep in snow. Water seeped in through her boots and socks, her pants soaked to her skin. The cold was good; it kept her awake at this late an hour.

Stopping in front of a rock, seemingly insignificant in a field full of them, she wiped her hair from her face. The snow had long since stopped, leaving an eerie quiet to this forsaken place. Tired, lonely, the woman felt what she had dreaded for the entire journey escaping.

A droplet fell from her chin, followed by another, slowly becoming a small stream of drops. Falling to her knee’s in the snow, the women let out a loud, strangled cry as she looked at the picture, which seemed to look back at her. Smiling, trying to comfort her. Brushing the snow off the rock, she silently read the memorized words aloud.

Here lies Jonathan Joseph Marshall
10/14/2002 – 6/7/2009
RIP​
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top