Finished Blood

I flipped up the collar of my jacket, tucked my chin as close as I could to my chest and walked past the crowd. How was I going to care for my lizards if I couldn't get in? A feeling like one gets when an elevator drops too quickly settled in my stomach, but rather than act as a fleeting sensation it stayed with me long after I had left the view of the faceless people gathered in the street.

I sat in my darkened living room, stirring my tea which had long since grown cold, replaying the day the bland woman came into my shop. I thought back to my impression of her. Undead. Lifeless. Cold. Almost translucent. An involuntary shudder from the memory caused me to tip my teacup over. I muttered a profanity out of sheer desperation. I was tired of feeling afraid. In my line of business it is not beneficial to have fears of any kind.

Darkness approached wreathing the world in a deeper wash of ebony than my mind could recall. Hmm. I suppose now is just a good a time as any to check on my babies; to make sure the shop was even standing. I put on a hat, and rummaged through a box of clothes I hadn't worn in years until I found a simple, non-descript jacket.

The winter air sucked the breath from my lungs. Usually I enjoy the crispness of the cold air, but tonight I felt smothered. It was as if I couldn't force enough air into my lungs to feel like I wasn't choking.

I rounded the final corner at a near trot. It was as though I was breathing through a straw with a hole near the top. I had to suck the air nearly all the way up, only to have it dribble out the side at the last second.

Gasping, I thrust the key into the stubborn lock. Served me right for not changing the lock when I took over the business. After the desperate struggle, I stumbled into the inky darkness of the space. The formalin greeted me like an old friend. The dim amber lights in the cages cast small pools of eerie iridescence. Their low wattage was absorbed into the atmosphere almost immediately from the source.

I didn't dare turn on the lights out front. I only flipped the switch on in the back after closing the door. The sudden intensity of the bare bulb shocked my dilated pupils into reclusion for a few stunned moments. I scrawled out a sign which I hung on the door before locking up.

"Closed until further notice. All out of mole's blood. Thank you."

The pre-dawn light cast a gray coat over everything it touched. Again, the air seemed to stick in my throat as I walked toward my shop. I must admit, I was surprised to find an even larger demonstration outside the door of my shop. Hadn't they read my sign? I couldn't see the door for the many heads and shoulders blocking my view. For such a large number of people, it was uncommonly quiet. But the closer I came I could hear the faint murmuring rising up to the steely sky. "Blood of a mole...Blood of a mole..." It rose and fell with a cadence changing it from a request to an entrancing chant.

Again, I passed by the crowd unnoticed. However this time, I noticed the people. Each of them varied in shape and size, but they were nothing more than shades of gray. A stout woman with a shapeless face stood in my path. The wisps of her iron hair were pulled into a lumpy knot at the back of her head. Silvery tears made paths from her ash-colored eyes. She whimpered the sing-song words, "Blood of a mole." I slowed my pace. The man before me was bald. His head seemed carved of granite. The movements of his lips were invisible, but a throaty version of the cry came from deep within his chest, mixing into the collective groan.

I stopped. Looking about, it came to me that these people were not people at all, but mere shells of human beings, drained of life and color. What was bringing them to my shop? It was then the sun sent its rays into the heavens as it remained hidden behind the distant horizon. Peach, Rose, and Wheat tinted fingers stroked away the aged tresses until the sky burned brilliantly into a gleaming Garnett. The astonishing display reminded me of something I had seen before, like tongues of flame licking the sides of a glass. Glass. Ruby colored glass.

I took off my coat. I could breathe as I walked to the door. The temperamental lock behaved. I removed the sign. I was the color in their lives. I was the blood of a mole.

The crimson liquid trickled into gleaming jars.