Arianna Crawford
Bio
I write stories of survival: that desperate, absurd drive to keep going. Every moment could be the end or the beginning of something new, and all we can do is cross our fingers and find out.
Stories (1)
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Ashes and Honey
Outstretch your arms as I glide aloe along your earthly skin and ancient wounds. I once said that I’m a healer, but that’s not what you feel in my touch. My fingers dance across your body, striking like lightning, and you can’t tell if I’m aiming for your bleeding heart in restoration or in death. We’ve completed this ritual before, a dance of sorrow and sacrifice. We perform in hope of absolution to no answer, but we’re not surprised—our voices withered long ago, along with them any chance of acceptance or forgiveness. You still my hand, and I read the erratic pulses in your wrist to know it is finished. But it won’t be the last time.
By Arianna Crawford4 years ago in Fiction
