It was peaceful--it felt like all my emotions had been mushed together and then colluded into a ball of fire in my heart and brain--and then crushed into the ground to bloom again into a tree.
Too many "intos", I got it--but how else would my brain, scrambled as it was, describe this?
I blinked, holding the bloody head as if it were a comfort object and the red goblet with unsipped blood in the other slightly shaking hand. "WELL, DRiNk It, ArEn'T YoU tHirsTy?"
Glaring at it, then the bloody stump of a witch head, it took me a minute or two to say yes.
"I have never tasted the blood of a person before. I've had mine through my fingers, once...terrible nail biting habit...but that's my own blood. This is another's, in a full glass. Does it taste any different than my own? Of course not! Anything different and they'd taste--positively angelic! Possibly tainted with radioactivity, even--or a demon's...so why would you want me to drink it, no matter how good the cup looks? Is it physically possible to pour blood out? But, fine, I am a little thirsty, so...maybe a sip or two will do."
The blood on my lips tasted bitter, like knives craving for my own to sate the nastiness of the deed I'd just done--and then, and then, it started to taste less like the blood of professed sinners--more like wine. Much, much more like wine. The blood of...
"Ah, what a good little girl...YOuR'e GOoD aT PlAyiNG OuR GaMe. ExCeLLeNt EvEn. WaNT tO pLaY AgAiN? I'M PoSiTiVe YoU'LL LoVe ThIs OnE."
"Quit playing Coraline with me and just tell me why I'm here--why you made me drink that..."
YOU ARE READING
Puppetry
RandomWell, let's get this out of the way now. I'm bored and figured--what the hell, I might as well chronicle each day from now until the very end. No particular deadline, really. And something hurts in my hips, so I need to distract from the pain in it...
