Very Short Stories #8

The potential energy from lives that could have been lived sometimes tore the weave of life's tapestry creating holes and dripping sparks. The weavers made the cloth, but Lyra #collected the energy and Reys mended the tears. And sometimes, they tasted the lives unlived.
Erik placed the #robe on the hook. It would stay there, untouched for another year. The ceremony was done. Why the demon required such a sacrifice, he'd never know. But Erik would do the can-can every year in the frilly robe if it meant he could stay in power.
"I love cooking, I just don't like that #second part."
"But you can't just not do it."
"Yes, I can."
"So, you're just going to live in filth?"
"Better than washing dishes!"
Sara summoned her muses: #poet, fiction writer, painter, chef, architect, musician, etc. The ones who had paved her road, drawn the maps, and inspired everything.
Sara gathered herself, lifted her finished manuscript, and flung it at their faces. "WHAT IS THIS CRAP?!"
It took a while for Gracie's breathing to slow down. Images flashed their way into her thoughts. Darkness, glinting metal, red splatters . And after cataloging the random limbs hanging, pooled blood, and the knives in her hand forced her to admit, she wasn't the #victim.
Thomas had learned early on to #verify his kills. This caution was why, when Gabriel X ended up at his home, gun in her hand, Thomas was so surprised. Her eyes glowed a noticeable red, but he still missed that as his attention was focused on the barrel pointed at him.