Literary Lion. Rouge.

It seems as though Kitty’s hot and grumpy self has influenced the prompt I picked from her jar this evening.  The word of the week is ‘Bleeding‘.


You have seven days to bleed across the page in 400 words or less. Remember to include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ in your piece and to pingback to this post so we can find your work in the WordPress reader. As always, have a read of each other’s work, the feedback is appreciated by us all!

Tweet me your stories, or tag me on instagram and remember the hashtag #literarylion

Here is my little tale of blood…



If Penny could have strangled him she would have. But it was hardly subtle.

This was the third nose bleed the old man had suffered with today. Whilst he was bent over his crossword puzzle, a drop of rose red splattered onto the page and spread through the fibres, growing larger as the paper drank it up.

He peered through his thick glasses at the spot. The tortoiseshell frames hung under his bushy grey eyebrows and clung to the tip of his nose as he bent at the neck, an emu stretching away from a hunched torso. He reached for the handkerchief in his left breast pocket, his hands fumbled with a trembling that had become part of his being. The rag he retrieved was freckled with dry bloody spots that were scattered between embroidered initials and lacy edging.

The old man twisted the fabric into a tight corkscrew and forced each pointed tip up a nostril, leaving the body of the handkerchief to dangle across his face like a bull with a nose ring.

Whilst mulling over the answer to thirty two down, the tang of copper started to grip the very depths of his tongue, spreading throughout the mouth until it had conquered every taste bud. The man reached for his glass of water and sucked in tiny mouthfuls from the edge of the crystal. Clouds of red span through the liquid with each sip, until the remaining fluid was a pale red tincture of tap water and blood.

Through a chink in the blinds the old man could see across the pool. The water shimmered the sunlight onto a naked couple that were slathering tanning oil across their leathery hides. The male one bent to retrieve his morning fill of beer from his ice cooler, giving the old man what was to be his last look of the living.



70 thoughts on “Literary Lion. Rouge.

      1. Ahh on that we might have reached our crossroads… I always loved the idea of it, and I saw the first season a couple of years ago and enjoyed it, but for some reason I haven’t made an effort to watch more. I really should though. I love the premise.


      2. Ha! I’m watching Buffy ( I know, I know. 15 years behind everyone else. I’m hip!) so I like to think my disagreements with you make me mysterious and brooding haha.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Are you allowed to enter writing contests in the U.S.? And have you before or will you ever? You should, as should I. More importantly, do you think it’s a good idea to attempt a ghostwriting endeavor, about a 70 year old Vietnamese, French-American, mail-order bride? Lol, these are serious questions!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m sure I can if the rules allow it! I’ve pitched and am writing for a couple of magazines in the US at the moment… the market is a lot bigger there than here (obviously, you’re about a hundred times the size of us!) so it’s definitely something I’m keeping my eye on. You definitely should. Do you mean ghostwriting as in writing for someone else under their name?


  2. Great imagery! I could almost taste the blood as I was reading it (blech)! And I really enjoyed the pair at the end. Here’s hoping we all have a better last mortal image than that… 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The reason I ask is just because I’m not a fan of writers being asked to write under someone else’s name. I have done it for years as a copywriter, which is slightly different, but now I’m having to start again as a writer under my own byline because my portfolio doesn’t count when it comes to pitching to editors. It’s not fair, I think you should be credited for your work.


  3. Nice imagery, as always. The last paragraph is funny, but what’s with the first line (“Penny …” – am I being thick?) And what’s the question for thirty-two down?

    Liked by 1 person

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