PouringOutTheSun

Ireland

“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.” -Madeline Miller, “The Song Of Achilles.”

#blacklivesmatter

Message to Readers

Woah hoah, this is angsty

That Blood Isn’t Your Own

June 1, 2019

FREE WRITING

2
“Your hands are soaked in blood again.” I said.

There was this awful wet squelching sound and I heard droplets hitting the ground. “What would you know?” He sneered, “you haven’t even looked up since I came in here.”

It was true, I didn’t bother to bring my gaze up from what I’d been reading. I knew what I would find; his face covered in dirt, blood up half the length of his forearms, as if he’d been washing clothes in the stuff. Sometimes there’d be a streak of gold running from his nose. Liquid immortality among the redness of those who did nothing more than die.

It contrasted in this lovely way, where suddenly you couldn’t tell the difference between stars and dirt anymore.

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1 Comment
  • hi i'm jackson ;)

    GAH IS IT ICHOR??? THE GOLDEN BLOOD OF THE GODS????
    ALSO
    IS YOUR PROFILE PICTURE

    IS THAT

    WHOA YOU ARE SO COOL


    about 1 year ago