I tore his flesh, gouging out the tenderest meat with my nails, fingers aching with the effort. It was a harder go than I expected; humans, it turns out, aren’t made for ripping each other apart. Not with bare hands. But needs must, and I was so hungry…
Or, y’know…I’m just exceptionally bad at applying nail polish with my left hand. Whatever.
Colour is Sally Hansen’s Flirt, gory text is a possible story opening. Yes? No? We shall see.
(And yes, I cleaned it up after. And, also? You know when you write the same word too many times, and it stops making sense as a word and starts to look like gibberish? I’ve looked at this picture for too long, and my hand is starting to look all fucked up. I hope that’s just me. I have normal hands, promise.)