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Weekly Contest #364
Miss Lanie Randall looked down at her shaking hands. They did not tremble lightly. Her pristine white sleeves were now splotched with dark red, quickly oxidizing into a rusted brown, and her satin gloves, a favorite of Miss Randall’s for their delicate trim, now found themselves crumpled deep in Captain Archie Weston’s bleeding thigh.“Must be arterial…” Miss Randall muttered under her breath, putting more pressure onto the hemorrhaging wound beneath her. The silk scarf that had been hastily tied below Captain Weston’s hip was beginning to lo...
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