\tInola stood in a river of red. Rich, unfamiliar red, mixing in with river clear, and turning into a milky, pink froth on the banks, as it burbled, and curdled, and sucked at the mud.
\tInola stumbled backward, her eyes round, her heart racing.
\tThe garment in her hand dripped with it. The length of her skirt was dyed red with it. And her wrists, oh her wrists, they were stained up to the elbow. Dripping pink ochre. Feeling sick to her stomach, Inola dropped the garment and turned, her feet slushing through the water, churning up rich mud that made the red less obvious but the terror in her heart no less turbulent.
","author_name":"Hill Sister Productions"}