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Death then creeps from door to door,/
a crawling mist one must deplore,
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She looks from underneath her crimson hair with smoky, dead eyes, watching the dead flit about her amongst the stones.
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I grasp my own shoulders and then run a gentle hand across my cheek, imagining it's your calloused hand.
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She didn't even know who I was! She would, though. She would come to love me and call me "mommy" and say "Mommy, I love you!"
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I'd never gone outside of my house for years. The outside world was a temptresses of death.
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Every day Michael took his beaten-up leather briefcase with him to work. For some reason, he felt panic bubble within him whenever it was f
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Burst of color flash 'hind closed lids,
dreams drawing power from ancient druids,
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"Chosen, my heir, come with me to the beginning!" the male voice commanded, and bright light accompanied his words.
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They hang there above all,
seeing history unfold,
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In my line of work, you can't have someone spilling your secrets. Oh, no, so you have to stem the leak, slaughter the squealer.
by sberendt
800 words, 8 comments,
on Jul 10 12:53 AM. In Crime, Dark, Death, Fiction, First person, Horror, Murder, Pain, Starting idea
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It was black and seemed to shimmer with power. I could feel the power now. It crawled over me and whispered.
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Why is this curse upon me?
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None had truly liked me, truly cared whether I lived or died. I was the strange one, the cursed one. They had every right to believe so.
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by sberendt
<100 words, 4 comments,
on Jul 5 11:24 PM
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Children and other ninjas walked or ran by, glancing at me curiously before going on their way.
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Do you realize how much Hera hates me? Yeah, I swear she mimes wringing my neck every time I turn around.
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