I’m going to be honest. Today, I couldn’t think of anything to write about. So, I decided to go to a random phrase generator, and try doing some writing off of that.
Prompt: “She picked up the knife”
She picked up the knife. Normally, her nerves got the best of her, so she should have been shaking. But not this time. Her resolve was cool, calm, collected. The metal felt cold beneath her nimble fingers. She stared down at the blade. After all of her planning, had it really come to this? Something so violent, so brute? This was not her style. It lacked complexity, it lacked elegance. But ‘crime of passion’ does have a certain ring to it. It would be messy, but in that sense it would also be quite beautiful.
A deep shade of crimson dripped down her wrist. She watched it make patterns, like rain streaking down a window. How something so simple could be so exquisite. He had never understood her eye for symbolism. Everything in this world can mean, or represent something else. You just have to look deeper. But no matter how deep she looked, she couldn’t find it in him. No matter how deep she cut, she couldn’t find his meaning. One more glance at what he was on the inside, and she put down the knife.
Well. That turned out creepy.
Until tomorrow, Allons-y! (That is French of “let’s go”. It is also a Doctor Who reference. I am a nerd.)
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