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... I chewed a bit at my index fingernail, feeling a bit of grit hit the tip of my teeth.  The room was beginning to smell a bit foul.  I walked over to the window on the far south side of the room and opened the window.  The blood was staining the blue carpet a dark shade of purple, that remarkably matched the silk curtains that were now waving slightly to the breeze that was hissing in.  I picked up the cream telephone, that oddly enough still had a chord connected from the receiver to the dialer and the dialer connected to the hole in the wall.  I dialed the three numbers for emergency, which wasn't 911 as you always see on crappy cable movies, but 473.  The called local and got things done quicker other than calling a line that would more likely than not be busy and not helpful.  The quicker the better, too.  It's going to take forever to get that stain out of the carpet.  

A Ravished Green of Meaningmature

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