Okay, this one is a little bit monster, a little based on an episode of criminal minds that included gypsies. Summary would be a supernatural family flees town when the secret is revealed, before they can get caught by angry people bearing pitch forks. Yup, its a weird one.

Before I could stop it, the blood from my cut fell and I watched it drop towards the table as if in slow motion. I started to run as soon as I knew I couldn’t catch it, not waiting for the gasps I knew would soon come as it hit the table and began to burn its way through.

“Jamie, whats wrong?”

I looked up to see my sister there, concerned, and I held up my arm to show her. “It hit the table.” I gasped out, and her face went blank, and then hard.

She grabbed my arm, and had me in the car and out of the parking lot before my friends had left the building. My blood was eating through the door frame as I couldn’t put enough pressure to stop the bleeding ,and I tried to focus on that instead of my sister barking updates at my parents. By the time we hit the highway I could see my parents car barreling down the middle lane, and we tucked in behind them.

We drove in silence for an hour, going nearly double the limit, and slowly my blood began to clot. When we pulled off the highway we didn’t slow, and quickly ended up at an RV park off of a dirt road. My parents didn’t chastise me, only cleaned and dressed the wound, covering it in salve to neutralize the corrosive effects.

My mother helped me strip] down and clean ]off. My long hair was chopped off, I was given glasses and a baseball cap, and an athletic outfit that was so far from my own style that I didn’t’ recognize it at first. The rest of my family had changed too, Dad’s beard was gone, my sister’s hair was in curls, and all of them were in matching track suits. It was abhorrent.

The car started on fire with a whoosh, as all out belongings were tossed in. We stayed long enough to make sure everything with my blood on it had burned, and then we got in the back of my uncle’s minivan. I wanted to ask when he showed up, but I was too ashamed, it was my carelessness that had caused this, after three long years.

“It’s not your fault.” My mothers voice startled me from my reverie. I looked up at her, and she continued. “It was an accident dear, it happens to all all of us.”

“We still had to leave because of me.” I sulked.

My mother was not one to beat around the bush. “Yes, we did. Did you want to leave?” She asked and I shook my head.

“Did you try your best?” She asked, and I nodded.

“That’s all we can do sweetie, try our best. Sometimes, sometimes our best isn’t good enough, and I wished you didn’t have to know that yet, but that’s life. I just need you to know is that your best is always good enough for me. I love you, you know that right?”

I nodded, but she wouldn’t let it go. “Right?”

“Ya, Mum, I know.” I mumbled.

“Good! Now get some rest, it’s going to be a long couple of days, and I am going to need you sharp if they catch up with us.” She grinned, and the sun reflected from her teeth, emphasizing the point.

I leaned back in my seat and tried to relax, hoping they didn’t catch up with us. I hated killing people.

The Forbidden Fruit

Okay, so even I have to admit I am not sure what the inspiration for this was. Something of a deal with death going on here, took me a while to figure out where the pomegranates combined with that. Side note, surprisingly large amount of info on pomegranates on google, apparently there is speculations that they were eating pomegranates in Eden and not apples, hence the title.

selective color photography of pomegranate

The scent of pomegranates lay heavy on the air, and I knew that I was in trouble. That first bite all those years ago had brought me vigor, the taste of a life renewed, but this was different. There would be no salvation for me, from the moment the tangy juice exploded in my mouth my life was extended, but there was a price to pay, and it was time to pay it.

I pulled out my pen and stationery, the good stuff I had kept for years and never found an occasion for, and I wrote out my goodbyes. When my letters were complete, I placed them carefully on the kitchen table so that they would be found by those who would come looking for me, few as they were. I shed my clothes, the last vestiges of my old life with them, and donned the robes I had sworn to wear, and walked barefoot into the dark of night, never to be seen or heard from again.