Death is an unappreciated artist. Her palette of painted children every colour of her lurid dreams. They approach with gray skin, green bruises, black blood, empty blue eyes, puckered purple wounds, and white bone. Their grasping hands know the gnawing, broken teeth of hunger. Their dead eyes see nothing but what they lack. Robbed of their lives, bereft of higher purpose, their base natures rule them. The restless dead only see one colour, the colour of their passion, that hue denied them. In their still cold hearts they know only hate, and the word comes unbidden to dead lips: red.
Author bio: Sean Patrick Kelley can be found in Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, the Earthdawn roleplaying game, and other gaming publications. He is the co-founder of the Paradise Lost writing workshop. Follow him on twitter under @Endiron.
Hollow is part of 101 Fiction issue 8.
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