It was a night of passion that had ended in her victory.
The faint rays of the sun trod softly into the room as the bride crept out of her nuptial bed, leaving a trail of blood behind her. She wiped the thick line of vermilion from her forehead, and looked defiantly at the corpse.
This is my 55-word story. I'm going to call it "Marital Rape".
[I'm going to frequently come up with this sort of thing till I either (a) realise fiction is not my forte, or (b) convince myself that i'm getting bloody good at this. Readers of blog: BEWARE].