Bogleech.com's 2020 Horror Write-off:
There's Blood Inside of Me
Submitted by Juniper Apotheosis Wonderly
“There’s blood inside of me and it wants out.”
A short absurd phrase that took form in my brain.
It was a little silly, so I took out my notes to write it down to remember.
But unlike previous chunks of thought, this one wasn’t fleeting.
It stayed, central in my mind.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
It wasn’t true, clearly, as blood can’t have its own wants or needs separate from my own.
And I certainly would prefer for it to stay inside of me.
But the thought stayed, as present as the beating of my own heart.
I found myself acutely aware of its beating.
The pulsing from my chest to my temple to the tips of my fingers.
Rhythmic, even, and familiar.
But it wasn’t quite so.
I felt the blood rushing through my veins and arteries, from the chambers of my heart outward.
The throbbing was too much to bear.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
And I wanted it out too.
It wasn’t right, like an invader in my own body.
Something had to be done of it.
And so, I found an empty soda bottle.
(They break very nicely, you know.)
I picked up a large, sharp fracture.
It glinted in the light, like a star in the night sky.
So I wished on it as I squeezed it in my palm.
My piece of starlight burned sharp against my flesh as it sliced through, warmth following soon after.
Warm, red, wet.
The sharp edge was slick as I weakly dropped my makeshift scalpel.
But the pulsing, throbbing, it didn’t stop.
Not until it was all centered in my wrist.
It oozed out of my open palm, black and viscous.
Throbbing, pulsing.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
No, that wasn’t quite accurate.
I know that now.
There was something in my blood.
And it wanted out.
A short absurd phrase that took form in my brain.
It was a little silly, so I took out my notes to write it down to remember.
But unlike previous chunks of thought, this one wasn’t fleeting.
It stayed, central in my mind.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
It wasn’t true, clearly, as blood can’t have its own wants or needs separate from my own.
And I certainly would prefer for it to stay inside of me.
But the thought stayed, as present as the beating of my own heart.
I found myself acutely aware of its beating.
The pulsing from my chest to my temple to the tips of my fingers.
Rhythmic, even, and familiar.
But it wasn’t quite so.
I felt the blood rushing through my veins and arteries, from the chambers of my heart outward.
The throbbing was too much to bear.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
And I wanted it out too.
It wasn’t right, like an invader in my own body.
Something had to be done of it.
And so, I found an empty soda bottle.
(They break very nicely, you know.)
I picked up a large, sharp fracture.
It glinted in the light, like a star in the night sky.
So I wished on it as I squeezed it in my palm.
My piece of starlight burned sharp against my flesh as it sliced through, warmth following soon after.
Warm, red, wet.
The sharp edge was slick as I weakly dropped my makeshift scalpel.
But the pulsing, throbbing, it didn’t stop.
Not until it was all centered in my wrist.
It oozed out of my open palm, black and viscous.
Throbbing, pulsing.
“There’s blood inside of me, and it wants out.”
No, that wasn’t quite accurate.
I know that now.
There was something in my blood.
And it wanted out.