Short Story: The Bunny Spills Blood

They whisper prayers every night, singing in their choir every day. They wait with patience for the time to bring their joy. The belief runs deep in their veins, belief beyond the divine.

Their childlike wonder carries more than the imagination can create. They believe the stories, tales and all the in betweens, because belief has never strayed them wrong, it has only ever rewarded them.

If it is real or not, if it truly is magic, power or just imagination fuel from their parents, it them, it’s real enough. So as the days roll by, the next day of joy grows nearer - Easter.

A day of chocolates, sweets, and all the things that rot your teeth, the cuteness of a bunny to add to the mix.

But what if I told you, that bunny isn’t sweet?

From the blood under its claws, to the skin in its teeth.
The sweets you’ve been eating, are the flesh of the weak.
Carved from the bones, of children like you.
He gnaws and he maims, all that is true.