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I smell the sweet cider spice, as the juices drip down my sticky chin. You’re grinning.  You’re remembering our beautiful liasons. Though, I suppose you wouldn’t have had blood on the side of your lip if it were your choice. It taints the smile. Our affair was blood stained, though. I guess you should have looked more closely at that apple before you gobbled it whole. Shredded pieces of metal tear up your insides like the dickens love. Forcing razor blades down your throat with my applesauce didn’t help that leaking line of crimson either. But it’s subtle.


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

2 responses to “Cider

  1. wiredwriter ⋅

    Love the last line.

  2. wiredwriter ⋅

    Damn good one again

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