Prompt for May 23: Four Lines of Prose about Something Overflowing

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . Characters and story from a novel series idea of mine: Hand of Fate.]

I always knew that arterial blood had pressure behind it, that that is why blood draws were aimed at veins instead. But I had no idea how it could just keep pouring out of a wound like the dagger in Evander’s back. Within the time it took for him to fall to his knees, his vest had already darkened, the sun reflected off the wetness blooming around the dagger hilt.

As mesmerizing and terrifying as it was, I wrenched my gaze away from Evander and towards Cris experiencing his own outpouring around the arrow lodged into his chest.

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Prompt from April 4: Four Lines of Prose about Something That is Shattered

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[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]

The hammer had weighed at least the same as me, the man wielding it putting twice the force behind the hunk of metal and wood. I could still feel the aftermath of the crash into my legs, mixed in with all the pain of splintered bone and crushed muscles.

They thought they could break me by taking away my legs, but these primitive Starrgyns don’t know of the power arms can generate. I bite my lip against the pain, struggle to sit up, and nock my arrow onto my bow.