Bloody Snapshots

By: Charlotte Shum

1.

His warm, rancid breath makes you shiver. "No, no, no," you whisper. "Liar. Liar!" You tremble as the blood-red tears spill down your cheeks. The man wipes your tears with his thumbs.

"Good, you're beginning to transform."

2.

The hair in the sink was rotten. The roots smelt of dead slugs; slime coated each individual strand from top to bottom. Locks fell and filled the entirety of the sink until water trickled down the sides. Two hands grasped the edges of the sink so tightly cracks formed along the steel lining.

Above the steel sink hung a mirror—clean and shiny—with an antique frame. A head looked up at the mirror, eyes staring at the grotesque being looking back at them, in a fearful trance.

As the last lock of hair slipped down a once human head, the being glanced away from the mirror. Roaring, it’s two limbs obliterated the stainless steel sink holding the remnants of its humanity.

Behind the being, footsteps echoed across the dimly lit room. A man ambled up to the being, a throaty chuckle escaping his lips.

“Call me a liar all you want. That won’t change who you are, Monster, and who you’re destined to be.”