One of us was bleeding
My feet were killing me. I had been carrying her in my arms for about half a mile and there was still no building in sight. In the company of dim streetlights and a haze of fog I found myself drifting from thought to thought, each sparked by the soft, warm, breaths that blew past my face. I think by this time she was already asleep. I had to stop briefly. It was only when I looked back that I realized there was a blood-trail in the snow: one of us was bleeding…
© Denis Adide 2009
It's Complicated 
This story seems to be the origin of a mystery. I wonder what caused the blood, if the speaker is helping or stealing away the girl, if something is chasing them, et cetera et cetera.
Enjoyed,
D
It has been quite a discipline not carrying on from where I stopped. I like what possibilities people come out with. They write their own stories from the one I’ve posted. Cheers for the feedback.
Almost enough to make me quit trying. Damn good prose for a poet.