Crimson Red

The decrepit colosseum was a grandiose blood show for entertainment in the annals of Rome. I stood singularly in front of this grand design, the architectural, the materials, all were somehow natural, it did not look that of a building, as if it was given birth by the Earth.

Dark sombre clouds wreathed the sky as I laid foot into the centre of the colosseum. The silence vibrance reverberated the derelict walls of it, shrugging me into a puny person, standing… among a crowd of hooligans, sitting in the empty seats that was not occupied a heartbeat before.

The colosseum regained it’s battlefield of entertainment stirring in it, the Romans were relentless, screaming for the suffering to begin. I was standing in the boots that were not mine, holding a crimson red cloth that was a nonentity to me.

Three notorious bulls were in front of me. What in the world is happening… I was quivering in fear. The bulls were raged, the crowd was entertained. I was petrified as of what to do, the bulls started charging towards me. I lifted the red cloth by intuition, preparing myself to embrace the next moments of crimson red.

Wait… Why am I still alive? I was reverted back into the dilapidated colosseum where it was stained, carved by the blood shed for pure entertainment.

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Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

5 thoughts on “Crimson Red

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