The Blood Flows
The blood I am hauling is pulled like water from an upturned cup. It presses and climbs up the side of the glass, trying to return to its source. If the lids were not on so tight would they burst off? Would the blood fall sidelong though the air to He who calls it back to Him?
I confess the urge to release one of the lids is strong. But my conviction is stronger. This is a test and I will pass through fire and into the realm of the gods and legend. Soon the centuries of long sleep will be over. And when the Loghorrean wakes the unbelievers will suffer for their lack of faith.