It's not fluid or crystal clear like water, but it's what you eat, breathe and drink through. Don't waste it, because you know that your appearance and personality depend on what runs through your veins. So Jimmy, before you shoot yourself, is it worth pouring out what you're made of?
She turned, heading to sit next to Dimitri when she realized that the spell was continuing. The magic pulsed through her veins, her blood icy as it ran it’s course.
“Wait, no-” She turned around as Abigail was shoved through the air, the coffin slamming closed with her in it.
Alone in the woods, when I caught that whiff—the sweet, metallic scent of iron. Hunger claws at me. I see it: a happy bird, oblivious, chirping. Crouching low, ears sharp, I wiggle my haunches, then spring! My fangs sink in; the warm blood gushes into my mouth, rich and satisfying.
Some die as their life elixir slowly leaks out . Others suddenly gush out as in throat slashes and gunshots . I bet you didn't know that I bled for years to lose all of the possibilities of a child being born in blood.
I was hopelessly lost. Sitting to rest, I felt tickles on my leg. Ticks, furiouly sucking my blood! I climbed a tree to escape, but soon the whining of hundreds of mosquitoes chased me into the pond. I thought myself safe... until I looked down and saw the leeches.
Thanks! It just popped into my head, as these things do.
It also strikes me, which I really should've thought of straight away, that maybe it should've been 50 ml rather than 50 mg, since we're talking about a liquid here. I think I missed a trick there!
But there is definitely a lot more than 50 ml worth of story idea in there methinks. Took me far longer to whittle it down than to actually write it - as usual!
Crypts and Blood , two gangs fought for territory: a corner liquor store, a telephone wire, where sneakers hung for a place to buy drugs. The night was young. Shots, smoke, flames out from a passing car; ricochet off a metal pole; blood spilled, sidewalk red, innocent child was dead.
If we weren't blood I'd think you're a loser. We are blood and I still think you're a loser. You wander this world as if you're owed everything. Yet you waste away at weekends, drinking yourself into oblivion, ordering take out and wondering why you're a degree or two away from another breakdown. How can blood be so different?
A fly sits on crisp white tile, rubbing its legs. Buzzing, it takes off as slick red begins to creep closer.
A scrabbling; acrylic fingernails struggling for purchase. Creeping beyond a blood-smeared hand, palm up, fingers twitching in restless sleep.
Reaching, reaching for the cold gleam of the butcher’s knife.
50 mg of Blood
It's not fluid or crystal clear like water, but it's what you eat, breathe and drink through. Don't waste it, because you know that your appearance and personality depend on what runs through your veins. So Jimmy, before you shoot yourself, is it worth pouring out what you're made of?
PROMPT: BLOOD
50 WORDS
She turned, heading to sit next to Dimitri when she realized that the spell was continuing. The magic pulsed through her veins, her blood icy as it ran it’s course.
“Wait, no-” She turned around as Abigail was shoved through the air, the coffin slamming closed with her in it.
Alone in the woods, when I caught that whiff—the sweet, metallic scent of iron. Hunger claws at me. I see it: a happy bird, oblivious, chirping. Crouching low, ears sharp, I wiggle my haunches, then spring! My fangs sink in; the warm blood gushes into my mouth, rich and satisfying.
We waited, weapons ready. We knew he'd track us, smell our blood, take the bait.
"Your turn to bleed, Sis" I said.
She held up a wrist, but as I cut, black ichor oozed out.
"He got to me first, brother dearest," she chuckled, lunging in a fang-filled frenzy.
We are born in blood and fetal juice
Some die as their life elixir slowly leaks out . Others suddenly gush out as in throat slashes and gunshots . I bet you didn't know that I bled for years to lose all of the possibilities of a child being born in blood.
PROMPT: BLOOD
THE BLOOD
He didn’t want to look at what was coming out of him.
But there was lots of it, dark and viscous, and just the thought of it was making him queasy.
He told himself to stay calm.
Soon, it’d be over, and he would’ve donated his first pint of blood… 🩸😎🩸
admirable. then you get biscuits and tea!
Haha! That's very true. The tea and biscuits are a wonderful part of it... 😎
very clever Miguel!
Thank you !
Blood-rimmed goblets,
an October toast to darkening skies,
where Fall slips into marrow, bone by bone.
She leans back, pale-limbed, a silent queen
in a cloak of shadows.
Candle-wax drip, blood-red stains,
Halloween whispers rise from graves,
and her laughter drinks the night whole.
such a creature of the night you are, Gloria. What beautful poems you make! Mwwooohahahahah
Microdosing – 50mg of Blood
===
Someone pricked her with a needle, holding her against a chair.
It’s her last memory.
Strange sounds from outside the building.
A nurse approached her bedside. ‘Let’s do your next test.’
“What...?”
‘Your blood test. You’re the first vaccinated patient.’
Then she remembered what the outside noises were. The zombies.
“Why drink water when you can drink life?” The vampire asked his television.
He had just seen a commercial for bottled water. It claimed water was a cure-all and that drinking it led to a longer life. The vampire was baffled.
“Why only live longer when you can live forever?”
I mean, he is asking the rigth questions
I was hopelessly lost. Sitting to rest, I felt tickles on my leg. Ticks, furiouly sucking my blood! I climbed a tree to escape, but soon the whining of hundreds of mosquitoes chased me into the pond. I thought myself safe... until I looked down and saw the leeches.
Dang, telling a story in 50 words is HARD! 😅
It is! At first we only did 50 wonders for the first month or two of Microdosing 😁
Agree......
Area 51
Restrained to this table I'm forced to stare upwards. No movement allowed while they cut their autopsy.
Of course they can't hear me. I try telling them, but no.
This species doesn't do telepathy.
They'll be reverse engineering my timeship soon enough.
Should never have come to this forbidden planet.
Good one!
Thanks! It just popped into my head, as these things do.
It also strikes me, which I really should've thought of straight away, that maybe it should've been 50 ml rather than 50 mg, since we're talking about a liquid here. I think I missed a trick there!
But there is definitely a lot more than 50 ml worth of story idea in there methinks. Took me far longer to whittle it down than to actually write it - as usual!
that's a interesting take on the prompt. always good to see something unlike anything else 😎
I think my subconscious also had a bit of Unofficial Katy and nefarious Alex-related Dreamland stuff going on.
yes...there were subtle nods alright.
NIGHT DELIVERY - 50MG OF BLOOD
For 35 years I’ve made the same delivery to the same rotten house. 31 barrels, every month, delivered at night.
I’m instructed by letter mail to leave the pallets in a dark, dank barn at the rear of the house.
The barrels are marked BLUD – I think it’s a typo.
Crypts and Blood , two gangs fought for territory: a corner liquor store, a telephone wire, where sneakers hung for a place to buy drugs. The night was young. Shots, smoke, flames out from a passing car; ricochet off a metal pole; blood spilled, sidewalk red, innocent child was dead.
If we weren't blood I'd think you're a loser. We are blood and I still think you're a loser. You wander this world as if you're owed everything. Yet you waste away at weekends, drinking yourself into oblivion, ordering take out and wondering why you're a degree or two away from another breakdown. How can blood be so different?