Bleeding Tears

On a school trip I spotted something and strayed from my group.

There’s a temple made of alabaster. A narrow entrance, guarded by a white statue. Blindfolded, holding two swords of her tunic, with a crown of braids resting on her head.

I turn around and mt group is gone. It is then that raindrops start rolling down the statue’s brow and all around me. Wet grass grasps my ankle, telling me not to go inside. I don’t listen.

It is dark inside the temple. Another statue stands there, same pose and hairstyle, but her eyes are uncovered. Made of gold and onyx, they follow me around the room.

I walk slowly, taking in my surrounding. After some time I try to leave, there’s nothing here anyway. But the moment I step towards the archway from which I came, the statue turns towards me.

Blood drips from her eyes, down to the tip of the swords she’s holding.

The floor cracks, all at once, reminding me of an old adventure film. I slip and catch one of the swords, I feel it slice the flesh between my thumb and index finger. Slipping further down, I clutch her ankle, but I’m soon forced to let go.

The last thing I see before falling into a pool of bone marrow is my bloody handprint being smudged by the statue’s rolling, crimson tears.