Joanie watched as the thick, white liquid spread across the table. The shards of glass glistened, peeking through a little. A single drop of her blood rolled from her finger and splashed into the milk. Speckles of red now dotted the white. There was no turning back.
Joanie looked at the clock. 12:01. The curse had been sealed. Milk for birth. Blood for death. Tonight, a life would be given at another’s expense.
Joanie’s muscles tightened. A faint kick in her belly? No. It was too soon. Wasn’t it? And then the phone rang. She knew it would be bad news.
Word Count: 100
© Shyla Fairfax-Owen