Rouged

 Trigger Warning: mentions of blood and death.

Often times, the grass was pale yellow, an indication of its neglect. Sometimes the grass was green but only because she had gone through her gardening phase again, only to abandon it. Today the grass was red. 

It gleamed in the scorching sun's wake, fresh like the roses in the neighbor's lawn . It coated the evenly cut spikes of grass, seeping into the soil. Rouging the earth. Pungent, was the stench of death, rising up to percolate the air. It marked the air with a presence of wet metal and an undertone of human existence, or lack thereof. 

Blood on her hands. Her pupils were trained on the delicate ripples the red pool created each time a breeze passed, obstructing the reflection of her mystified eyes.  

Was the feeling of revenge fulfilling? The feeling that she had finally put an end to the perpetual lies and slander...but it didn't quite feel satisfying. It felt more like a chore that had been pending for a very long time but it was not significant enough to finish at the moment it first arose. It simply existed and now it didn't. 

Her hands fell slack to her sides, the liquid falling to the grass to join the larger pool. Inside the house the air was cooler. The oven hummed and the water splashed against the dishes in the sink as the faucet turned on. She rinsed her hands over the mixing bowls containing specks of sticky cake batter which reminded her that she had to frost and store the cake in the fridge to take to her mother's dinner party. 

She placed the perfectly iced strawberry cake in the fridge, relieved that she had finally gotten this task done. She had been dreading baking the cake all week but now that it had turned out well, she could be at peace. 

a flash fiction by Alyana Khan