My first thought on looking at this theme was 'Oh god, not vampires'. There seemed to be so many clichés when it came to blood. It runs thicker than water. The rivers run red with it. It always tells, etc etc. Dripping blood, puddles of blood, violence. At time of writing, my capital city, London, is undergoing riots for no apparent reason, and I'm sure there is blood being shed. It's appalling.
This is no less melancholy, but I tried to write it slightly light-heartedly. This person, I feel, is practical about such matters, and knows it would be silly to grieve overlong.
Short Stories
