Red People

Rain is not blood.


People aren’t afraid of rain. Some people even like the rain. It’s beautiful—inspiring—a cold, fickle muse drawing power from sunless skies. Most people find it disappointing. They look out the window in the morning and catch sight of the zircon beads, shake their heads, and sigh. They watch other people caught in the storm, flailing in the flood, being dragged away like prey in the mouth of a beast and chirp, “Don’t worry the sun will come out soon.” Some people find it uncomfortable—the wetness leaves dark spots behind. If there’s too much rain people will drown, but they’re still not afraid of it. It only goes one direction. It can’t help where it falls. Some people don’t acknowledge the rain until it is too late. If you can’t see it it’s not there.

Blood is frightening. People don’t want to look at it. It’s red and grisly—unpredictable. They know it’s there, under their skin, permeating their flesh, but they need to pretend it’s not. Some people get ill from the sight of blood. Any little droplet needs to be covered or cleaned up. If you can’t see it it’s not there. Always call a doctor if you’re bleeding. You won’t want to when the endorphins flow, when your own mind betrays you, when you skip arm-in-arm with Euphoria to your right and Death to your left. Once enough blood flows it’s almost impossible to stop. If Death doesn’t pull you away from this world, Pain, the gouty hunchback always creeping behind, takes your hand and drags you into the depths when you’re too exhausted to fight back. You wait until the next time you bleed.

Or die.

Just cover your eyes! If you can’t SEE it it’s not there.

Blood is not rain.