Bloody Cranesbill

She scrubbed at her hands desperately, trying to push every thought about what she had just done to the back of her mind. It wasn’t anything she should feel guilty about, but she did. She could still see the look in their eyes, the one that silently demanded what was happening and why, and she shut her eyes against the phantom faces that continued to haunt her.

She had never smelled so much metal in the air before, a coppery tang that lent itself somehow to the color that now stained her pretty white dress and the once cream walls of the living room where the act had taken place.

Such a pretty color, red.

Her skin was tinted pink from her frantic scrubbing, and she realized that the evidence was slowly washing down the drain, so she stopped. She froze completely and wondered what she would do now. She glanced to her left where the old, heavy mask sat on the counter beside her, the gold and white of the crane’s bill now streaked crimson from what she had done.

She dried her hands carefully on a towel and dropped it back into the kitchen sink, eyes glued still to the empty eye sockets of the mask. She picked it up delicately and held it up to her face, looking into the black void of the empty eyes and wondering if perhaps it really would be as simple as that.

She turned the mask about and tied it around her head, the black satin ribbons falling against her hair as the gold, white, and red of the mask faced the world and hid her true face from view.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. This was her true face, now. The face of a murderer and a villain- the face of a crane with a bloody bill.


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