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Literature Text
Crimson's blood staining an antiquities rug so fine,
gleaming there so wickedly in a moonlight's shine.
Witnessing this ghastly scene beyond all measure,
as one intruding on an aftermath of such displeasure.
Legacies of fortunes and silvers, and golden ways,
are worth much more than an innocent life these days.
Done to death in materials luxury of darkness told,
bearing what only a nameless night, dares to bold.
For a crime so steeped in the hideous and obscene,
as the who, and the how, still remains to be seen.
Killing in such a way, bringing the reaper to shame,
as blood is the price for this morbidly vicious game.
So far gone that not even a medicine could heed.
But to what end does this act truly mean to need?
An heiress to treasurers and a manor of bitter pain,
murdered for what others hope to ultimately gain.
And as I lay there dead upon the ground soundlessly,
my corpse speaks for what no one else can for me.
As a life was extinguished on this blackest night,
Who is really to blame for this most awful sight?
To uncover a motive and a plot of sadistic revenge,
finding the killers and a satisfaction to avenge.
As yet another murder in the affairs of blood and ties,
and an estate built up entirely off of cruelty and lies.
gleaming there so wickedly in a moonlight's shine.
Witnessing this ghastly scene beyond all measure,
as one intruding on an aftermath of such displeasure.
Legacies of fortunes and silvers, and golden ways,
are worth much more than an innocent life these days.
Done to death in materials luxury of darkness told,
bearing what only a nameless night, dares to bold.
For a crime so steeped in the hideous and obscene,
as the who, and the how, still remains to be seen.
Killing in such a way, bringing the reaper to shame,
as blood is the price for this morbidly vicious game.
So far gone that not even a medicine could heed.
But to what end does this act truly mean to need?
An heiress to treasurers and a manor of bitter pain,
murdered for what others hope to ultimately gain.
And as I lay there dead upon the ground soundlessly,
my corpse speaks for what no one else can for me.
As a life was extinguished on this blackest night,
Who is really to blame for this most awful sight?
To uncover a motive and a plot of sadistic revenge,
finding the killers and a satisfaction to avenge.
As yet another murder in the affairs of blood and ties,
and an estate built up entirely off of cruelty and lies.
Literature
violence
he spits into the bathroom sink
bones pushing against the skin of hands
that grip each other's shadows
as the breaths come slower.
lips crack and splinter as they stretch
in a smile that tastes
metallic, dull with fear,
maraschino cherry red
what shining eyes, what glinting teeth
look sharper in the light?
Literature
2 Sentence Story
It was a dark and stormy night.
The Earth cradled itself in blankets of black clouds, awaiting its end.
Literature
- die.
He strained against the current.
The chilling tide seared his eyes.
A flood of kits underfoot,
they pushed and drove him astern.
He sensed the warmth rising;
the heat of the sun or of fire.
He fell into the biting winds,
borne back toward the flames.
The others scurried in terror
from embers that blistered and scarred.
Because the cold had numbed his sight,
he saw that in life he had survived.
And in death he must...
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Done for the writing tournament at iconwriters--club: Writers--club
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