"Come in, come in!" Stanislav motioned the visitor to come over to the window where he sat. A bare tree with blackened branches sat just outside the window, several branches sitting on the open window sill. Stefan entered the room, bowing, and sat where he was directed. An awkward silence descended as the two men eyed each other with the same ice-blue eyes, the same proud chin.
"So!" Stanislav clapped his hands together. "You are blood--er, family?" The old man's accent was thick, reminding Stefan of his long dead grandfather. He smiled as he nodded.
Stanislav leaned forward. "I thought that all such records had been destroyed."
"My great-great grandmother, your sister, kept a bible," Stefan began, but Stanislav cut him off.
"Ah yes, a bible. She has a sense of humor, my sister." Stanislav sat back thoughtfully, staring out of the open window. More of the branches seemed to be protruding into the open window, as if the tree were trying to climb inside. "She never understood that our Druid blood is cursed."
"You should not have come, young man." Stanislav began chanting softly, and his head dropped forward to his chest. Concerned, Stefan stood up. A hungry black branch shot from the tree at the window, piercing Stefan's Achilles. He screamed as a second branch pierced his wrist; a third tore through his throat, silencing him. The rest of the branches impaled Stefan in a macabre embrace.
Stanislav watched sadly as the tree drained the blood from Stefan, then pulled the lifeless body over the window sill and deep into the soil, where the roots would feast upon the remains. The tree was alive once more. Bright pink blooms were rapidly sprouting from the once dead branches, and Stanislav felt the rush of health flooding his veins, healing his afflictions.
He would call his sister this evening, to thank her for her sacrifice.
The prompt is the third definition of the word 'blood'.
The prompt is a tree blooming with pink flowers, and a quote.