Rain on a Tarp
The pitter patter of rain on tarp stirred me from my sleep. I opened my eyes, I could feel the rain as it began to slowly wash over me. It felt lukewarm as it streamed down my body. Water began to pool around my person so I began to rise.
A vicious pain tore through me, shaking me to my core. I screamed as I writhed around in the mud. The left side of my torso pulsed with fire as I held my hands to it. Tears ran down my cheeks but they were lost in the rain.
For a long time, the pain consumed me. Slowly, endlessly, time passed and the pain began to reseed. When my head began to clear, I found myself curled into a ball, weeping. I began to regroup, mentally reorganize and get my bearings. The last thing I saw before I woke up was fire. I had been eating in my house, then there had been fire and I was in the air. Then I woke up in the mud and rain. Through my confusion and pain, I turned my head to view my side. The first thing I noticed was the blood. My hands were red, a deep complete red. Blood poured from my pain and oozed to its surroundings. Methodically, the blood consumed more and more of my dress, staining it crimson. I breathed, carefully removing my hands from the pain. I winced as they moved but I kept my eyes focused. The hands removed revealed a sickly fusion of blistered flesh, singed cloth and blood. Scattered amongst the blisters I could see small ragged stones protrude from my broken skin. Blood seeped out from beneath the stones as I breathed. In the chaos there was a single place of order. In the middle of the wound there was a brand. It looked like the ghostly image of a large fish hook.










