Mud: Horror

He had mud on his face. He sat in his house, his civilized modern architecture house iwht its open windows and cantilevered ceiling, and he kept touching his face. The mud was red. It wasn't because of the dirt in the area. It was the blood of his wife. She had bled--so much. He'd smashed the--the thing back off the cliff into the sea, but his wife was already bleeding, had been bleeding for so long before he came looking for her, had stopped bleeding as he held her in his arms. She bled still after her heart stopped (he knew it stopped because it, it wasn't there).

Inspiration: Oh, that Jonathan Coulton song about mud on your face, big disgrace....
Story Potential: Low potential
Notes: Eh.