This month’s word is red, meaning “any of various colors resembling the color of blood; the primary color at one extreme end of the visible spectrum, an effect of light with a wavelength between 610 and 780 nanometers”.
It’s late again, sorry.
Red’s always been my favourite colour. Not pink, not orange, not (please) violet. But there’s too much red here.
It won’t be red always, of course; it’ll dry soon enough to a dull brown. But right now it’s a beautiful bright red, splashed and pooled everywhere.
I didn’t mean to do it, really. I just wanted to scare him. But we argued, and then somehow I had a knife, and, well, here we are, with splashes of blood everywhere. It’s quite pretty, if you don’t think too hard about what it is.
But now I do need to think about it, I need to clean it up, clear it away. Hide everything, somehow, cover my tracks.
Or… I could not. I could leave everything alone, sit here and wait until someone comes looking, for me or for him. Just watch the vibrant red fade to brown, and take whatever consequences come with it.
I’m tired. I didn’t want him gone, not really, but it’s happened, so I should deal with it. I just… don’t want to. There’s a corner that’s clean enough, a chair that’s unbroken. I’ll sit there, and I’ll wait, and I’ll take whatever comes.
He always said I should accept the consequences of my actions. Well, now I am. I actually think he’d be proud.