Under a Blood Red Sky

I prised my bloodshot eyes open, only to be hit with a searing hot gust of wind. Sprawled on the side of a dusty road, my hand reached for my pocket where I felt the comforting outline of my flask.

I took a swig, the desert landscape swimming before my eyes. But I could still see you. Your warm coffee brown eyes gazing at me and your soft lips parted. I stretched out my arm, but only felt the wind. If I had my chance again, it would be different. I swear to God, it would be different.

I stumbled back into the grungy bar that I had stumbled out the night before.

And there she was again. So different to the other dead-eyed girls who accosted me as soon as I walked in, swinging their hips and trawling for dollars.

 

She wore a faded blue apron and a yellow ribbon in her hair; the only splash of colour in this drab place. The ribbon cruelly reminded me of your favourite lemon coloured sundress. I recalled how it skimmed your thighs as you slowly swayed to the music. Back when my hand was steady and my mind clear, I would mix pigments on my palette and paint pictures of you. Only you.

I unsteadily perched on a bar stool and drank from my flask. She shyly smiled at me as I spoke, her soft lips parted and her warm coffee coloured eyes locked with mine. I could imagine myself running my fingers through her long brown hair and caressing her dusky skin. It would be different this time, I would make sure of it.

It had been hard to let go of you. Even as you lay there dying, I could not bring myself to walk away. Your glassy coffee coloured eyes, your parched parted lips and the red bloody gash on your forehead. I sat there and tenderly caressed you until you took your last breath. It was not supposed to end this way. It was never my intention to hurt you. But I could not change the past and I had to think about my future.

 

A familiar hot wave of jealousy now washed over me as the girl tended to a customer. I bided my time as I drained my flask of its very last drop and she eventually returned to me.

 

“Wanna get out of here?” I drawled. The girl glanced around nervously before nodding her head.

 

She quickly untied her apron and my eyes lowered to a badge pinned to her dress. The Virgin Mary intently gazed back at me. Devoted, faithful and pure. The icon, so incongruous in its ugly surroundings, made my heart skip a beat. It was a sign. I snaked my arm around her waist as we walked out the door.

 

She would be my new beginning and this time it would surely be different.

 

Prompts- The story:

  • Had to begin on the side of a road.

  • Must include the words APRON, PIGMENT, RIBBON, ICON, LEMON.

  • Had to include a splash.

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