#HorrorWritersChat Each blossom is a pustule. Bees coax fluids from my erupting skin. The bees' thick yellow legs turn orange when my blood stains the pollen. I scratch at my skin and it flakes off like fallen petals. When the bees leave me, I wonder who will collect the mad honey.
Artemis Quinn 🏳️⚧️🎨📚The strange compulsion to reach out and touch one of the plants overtakes you. As your fingers touch the petals, they tingle. You freeze, watching tendrils reach out cautiously from the plant. "The roots dig deeper into my veins, foxgloves sprouting from my skin." Finish it. #HorrorWritersChat