Fuchsia

How it shines. How it glitters in the sun. How it's shape is so beautiful, so easy to hold in her hand. She curls her fingers around the handle and is satisfied with the control her grip enables her to have. She looks at herself in the reflection of the blade. Two eyes look back. There is no life in them. They only have one use. To see. And see she did. She crouched down, willing herself to not be seen. Like a snake, she wills her body to slide along the ground. A twig snaps. She freezes. Birds above her fly towards the sun. The heavens. She listens out for any other noises but it is hard. Her heart is too loud. She takes a deep breath as silently as she is able to and proceeds. There. She is so close. She can smell it. Beautiful flesh, so soft, so pure, so perfect. Too perfect. The blade shines in her hand. It cries to be used. It cries to become a part of the beautiful flesh. She knows. Under that beauty is more beauty. In another form. Red. How could anyone possess such vast amounts of beauty? It is not fair. Justice must be made. Quick as lightning, she greets the flesh with her blade. A scream is heard. It is ugly, not like the flesh at all. Masses of beautiful red flows out, like a river. An elixir. Like a possessed soul, she craves. Her hunger needs to be satisfied. She presses her hand against the now still form, such beauty on her fingers. She caresses her neck with the elixir. Yes, she can begin to feel it. She stares at her blade and licks it clean. The taste so rewarding. She enters the flesh with her blade again, and again. Beauty flows out, a pool of wonder. She scrambles for it all. She takes it all. She rubs as much as she could around her whole body. There.

She is now beautiful. Justice is restored.

Until next time.
xx