by Leo King

Approx. 1000 Words


Color of Blood Series:
Part 1 | Red Blood
Part 2 | White Blood
Part 3 | Blue Blood
Part 4 | True Blood


I scowl as dark feelings again enter my heart. Why is my dear sister singing in a place like this? What have they done to her?

“I’ll take the Nutcracker, your Highness,” says Jack, taking out a brass candlestick and giving it a flick of the wrist. The blade that comes forth is as sharp as it is long. “You take the hammer.”

I look over at Jack and smirk, “No. I’ve got the Nutcracker, Jack. You take the hammer.” I need something with limbs.

Jack nods and without a sound, we rush forward to attack. The two are caught so unaware, perhaps distracted by Jane’s singing, that they don’t have much of a chance to react. The Nutcracker is still reaching for his sword when I slice off his arms, steering clear of his powerful and dangerous jaws. Jack gives three slices as the Hammer starts to rear back to attack. The hammer falls to pieces. White blood splashes everywhere, even covering Jack. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“White bloods,” I say, a mixture of horror and fascination in my voice. “These were Toys?”

It is a simple fact that everyone knows. Humans have red blood. Toys have white blood. Trolls have blue blood. Simple as Simon.

“Yes, your Highness, “Jack says, wiping himself off as best he can. “Unfortunately, a lot has changed in the past year. Not all Toys are good anymore.”

A lot has changed. I wonder just how much has changed, and if I’ve changed more or not enough. I push aside those thoughts and go to the Nutcracker. The pitiful creature is on the ground, bleeding white all over the floor. “Oh, Goose!” it cries out, flopping around like a fish out of the water. “I’m going to bleed to death!”

I step on him. He looks up at me with terror in his eyes as I use a sickle to remove the key to Jane’s cell from his belt. “Nah,” I say, smirking cruelly, “you won’t bleed to death.”

I take my time with him. I’m sure he did something to deserve it. Goose knows that with all I’ve suffered through, I needed a bad guy powerless under me for a change.

Jack hides the bodies as I unlock my sister’s cell and go inside. Unlike mine, Jane’s cell is completely dark. I see a form standing against the far wall, and I hear her voice singing.

“The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes, when down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!”

I clear my throat, “Sister?”

The singing stops, and the figure in the darkness faces me. Stepping forward, one step at a time, Princess Jane Cole comes into the light. I gasp. What have they done to her?

Jane’s skin is pale as death, almost all the color drained out, and her once black hair is stark white save for blood red tips. Her chest and arms are covered in chains, a large padlock on the front. Her legs are unshackled, and she is barefoot. Her eyes, though, are what catch my attention the most. One is a deep blue, as are mine, and the other is a deep red. They look unfocused and distracted, as if behind those eyes is nothing but chaos.

“Madness,” I say. For a moment, I forget that I’m still in the dungeon of my enemy, and I roar out loud. “UNCLE!! I WILL KILL YOU!!!!” I then let my head go limp and weep bitterly. My beautiful sister had been driven mad! What did they do to her?

Jane looks at me blankly as I react to her state. She gets a wide grin and merrily says, “Are you sleeping, brother? Morning bells are ringing… Ding Dang Dong!”

Her words rouse me from my morass. I look at her unfocused eyes, and she smiles back. Memories assail me of how her smile used to be – pretty, spunky, kind, loving. Now that smile held only insanity. Jane leans forward and nips my nose, whispering, “…pecked off her nose.”

I shake myself free of the pity and anxiety I feel, and I try the Nutcracker’s key on her chains. Nothing, so with a few choice slices, I cut her chains off. I then stare at her body in horror. She is wearing a one piece garment that covers her chest, abdomen, and legs. It’s as white as her skin, but multiple areas underneath the material are stained red as if she were bleeding. Her arms are in no better condition, with a spiral design cut into her right shoulder, a tic-tac-toe game cut into her left shoulder, and other designs on her forearms. They all look self-inflicted. Her hands are covered in blood red mitts that are tied tightly with wire. Apparently, her captors bound her to stop her from hurting herself.

Jane absently picks at her injuries for a moment before scurrying around the floor and finding a nine inch nail. Taking the nail, Jane starts to reopen the tic-tac-toe wound on her arm, as if she is going to continue playing, and says, “All for the want of a horseshoe nail…”

I grab the nail from her hand, yelling, “Stop it!”

Her expression is hurt for only a moment before she tilts her head to the side and says, “Hey Diddle Diddle!” I stop trying to figure her out for now.

“We’re leaving sister,” I say, taking Jane’s hand. “Jack is here, and we’re escaping.”

Jane nods to me, and I figure she at least somewhat comprehends me. I lead her out of her cell.

(To Be Continued…)


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