Creative writing group A- Vermillion

I found something short that I wrote sometime last year. I don't really remember writing it, to be honest, but I found it whilst rummaging around my folders. I tweaked it a little and it's probably not as long as it should be, but considering how late I'm posting this, I thought you guys might appreciate something of less length so that your WAFs can be prepared in time, or however it works. I'm very sorry, but here we go.




I sat watching her from across the red table, the one decorated with a frilly white cloth. On top of it was a delicate tea set, a china tea pot with a matching set of cup and saucer, a plate of scones dripping slightly with blood like jam which placed carnivorous thoughts onto the fragile balancing scales of my mind. Her pale hand, thin and dainty, picked up the cup with a grace that many ladies would usually spend years perfecting. Moving at a speed neither lethargic or hasty, she brought the cup to her full rogue lips and took a quiet sip before placing it back down again, and, looking at me, she blessed me with a carefree smile.
We were quiet as we ate, and I sat listening to the sounds around me, from her barely audible breath, like the steady rhythm of a ticking clock. I could hear my own loud gulps as I gorged on the banquet before me, and the tricking of the river right beside me. Even the rivulets of water looked like they were dancing in the moonlight. Vermillion flowers dotted the silent landscape, stretching as far out as the eye could see into the abyssal night hours.
The one feature I had been trying to ignore about the girl before me was the eyes. They were gray, vacant, lifeless and cold. They were like the eyes of a World War II poster, always following your movements. Those eyes sent shivers down my spine whenever I noticed them, so I always tried to avoid meeting her gaze. The other thing that I was trying to ignore was that looking into the reflection in the river, of all the objects reflected, she wasn't. Her pale skin made her more reminiscent of a ghost, or a dress up doll. The vermillions slowly began to lose their colour. Graying and withering, I noticed a fire on the horizon, lighting up the night sky.
Neither of us moved as the fire rapidly charged closer to us, until it was surrounding us. She took another sip of her tea just like she had done previously before blessing me with a carefree smile.
"Do you love me?" She asked innocently.
I hid my eyes behind a teacup as the fire rapidly approached us, surrounding us in a destructive, cackling din of destruction. I tried to be as genuine as possible as I responded, trying my best to convince myself, even more so than her.
"Yes, yes I do."

-By Alexander Pritchard