Blood Pudding

It was a nagging, wheedling cry. Insistent and needy, reaching down from the little blue boxroom, magnified by the hallway and into the living room where she sat, quietly knitting.

The sound gnawed at a part of her mind that was struggling to resist. And she was having such horrible thoughts. Shut up. Shut up! Shut. The FFUCKK. UPPP! screamed the voice in her head, though she never once swore out loud, even when alone.